The Inferno
by Darkened Grace
Summary: Normally I don't care about anyone. I don't waste a second thought on a single person I meet. So what's so different about you? Why can't I get you out of my head? Why do you, out of all the people in this world, matter to me so much? Aria/Miranda
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is my first story ever on this website, so I'll be honest and say that I'm nervous as to how the story will be taken. However, I do take criticism well, as it helps me in my adventures of writing in the future.**

On Fire

Chapter 1

"In Varris, you kill or you are killed."

"Then how do people still live here? This is madness; it is complete and utter anarchy at its finest."

"The laws of the King's Own do not apply here. We have an uneasy alliance with the king and his military force. He doesn't encroach on our territory, and we don't pillage his cities."

An irritated sigh.

"Why is it that I'm now here, in this city?"

"You think I know what goes on in that head of yours?"

"Fair enough." A quick glance around the scandalous tavern. "Is there any decent area in this city that I can rest my head and not have to worry about getting stabbed in the dark?"

"That would be in Aria T'Loak's personal chambers." A smirk was given. "And I rather doubt that you can get in there."

"I would not be so sure." Miranda Lawson flicked her coffee brown hair out of her ice blue eyes. She found it challenging to hide her Anadian accent. "Could you direct me to the place where she's located?"

Another irritated sigh. Miranda gave a bland stare to the gruff, burly man behind the counter of the tavern she was in. He was tall, with black hair that fell into his coffee brown eyes. Thick hair was exposed on the man's chest from his loose shirt. Miranda tried to avoid looking at it. His facial features were mostly covered by a neatly trimmed beard, but Miranda could see that he was probably considered attractive, if one was looking for a rugged type. Which she was not.

"Yeah, sure," the man said eventually. "She's staying in the tavern named Inferno. It's located in the center of the city, just a few blocks from here. There'll be a large sign with the name on it. I rather doubt you'll miss it. Name's Garrus, by the way."

"Thanks," Miranda said sincerely.

Garrus snorted. "That's the first time I've ever heard that."

The representative of the White Star, a secret yet powerful organization, gathered up her belongings, which consisted of a shoulder bag with enough clothes and supplies to last her for several weeks. On her available shoulder was a sheathed sword. The sword strap intersected with the strap of her bag. The clothes that she wore made her blend in with most of the crowds in Varris. However, her facial features would never let her be considered ordinary. The stark contrast between her pale skin and her dark, silken hair was one thing that made her stand out. Her eyes were the lightest color of blue that she had seen in anyone, the color of the midday sky. Her facial features looked like they were carved out by a master artisan, not simply given to her by her genetics. Needless to say, she was a prime target for harassment from men and occasionally women.

Miranda headed out the door of the bar she was in and stepped out into the city of Varris. When she had first arrived from Anadius, where the White Star's main base was, she was astonished at how well kept the city actually was for such a terrible reputation. There were marble fountains at every intersection, the sides and windows of buildings were always being cleaned by someone. The buildings themselves looked like they had come from a romantic era, metal terraces with vines interwoven in the wrought iron. The roofs were shingled with coral-colored tiles. The city itself rested on the shore of the great Sahrabarik Ocean, which hosted crystal clear water and white sand. It was an ideal city, yet it was home to some of the worst mercenary groups and criminals in all the land.

Walking down the streets now, she was more accustomed to the beauty and deception. Nothing fooled her now. She could see where the poverty struck hardest and where people literally had to pay for something with an arm and a leg. Miranda made it her goal to never go down any of the alleyways. The woman could handle herself in nearly any situation, yet she would rather be safe than sorry, or dead.

Miranda stuck to the paths lit by bright lanterns. The fading sun cast a certain glow on the city, like someone would have when they had just fallen in love. It gave the city character and also helped in hiding what lay beneath the metaphorical masks everyone wore. The streets she walked on with her leather, buckled boots was paved with cobblestones. They were smooth, for the most part.

Eventually she reached the center of the city. Sure enough, like Garrus told her, the sign for the tavern Inferno was lit and easy to see. It was, perhaps, the largest sign in the city plaza. The tavern had a complete building to itself, four stories tall and the richest building in the immense city. Crimson tapestry hung from various corners of the establishment, accented by the green vines that adorned the metal railings and windows. Lighting from the inside glowed through any openings the building had. It was clearly an active place in Varris, the perfect place for the unofficial ruler of the city to be housed.

Miranda situated her bag and sword more comfortably across her shoulders and started off toward the great tavern. Walking across the plaza and up to the tavern, she noticed a pair of men standing outside the entrance.

"Whoa, lady," the left one said. He was a thick man but barely taller than Miranda. He had chestnut hair and a thin beard. His metal armor looked like it had been stolen from one of the King's knights and redecorated with blue dyes. On his hip hung a shiny sword with no sheath. The other guard looked identical to him. Twins, most likely. "We can't let you in without word from the boss."

Miranda noticed that one of their most vital parts, the neck, was exposed. Foolish move, she thought. In the dull sapphire sash she wore across her waist were a dozen throwing knives. She made a show of looking for something inside her sash, only to bring out two of the knives and quickly shove them in the pair's vulnerable necks. Scarlet blood flowed from their jugulars as she quickly yanked the knives back out and wiped the blood off in the men's hair. She then returned them to their original position.

She turned the nob on the sizable door in front of her and walked into the tavern named Inferno.

Inside, she was assaulted with a cacophony of music and boisterous voices. The interior of the tavern was more lavish than the entire city of Varris combined. Balconies on every floor had people dancing and drinking the night away. Off in the dark corners of every floor, citizens of the city were performing various acts that belonged behind locked doors. It apparently didn't matter if there were two people of the same gender together; everything simply happened. Near support columns, guards dressed like the two outside were standing and watching for trouble. A grand stairway was sliced in half and led up to a secluded balcony on the second floor. A pair of guards were stationed at the foot of each stairwell. The floor of the building was white marble tile, along with the walls and stairs. On stages scattered throughout the establishment were men and women dancing exotically. Crowds around them would cheer when the dancers would perform a certain move and the front of the crowd would toss out coins of different colors. Some coins were bronze, other were silver, and the occasional one was gold. All of the dancers were, of course, scantily clad. A bar off on one side of the bottom floor had a few people situated on the stools in front of it. The counter appeared to be made from solid quartz and crystal. Miranda could not fathom how expensive that must have been for the owner to buy. The stone railings on the balcony held more crimson tapestry, like the ones outside. Miranda was close enough to see now that each piece of fabric was outlined with golden trim. Whether or not the gold was real was something she did not think was vital to know.

In the center of the second floor, the two stairways that were guarded, the secluded balcony was obviously where her target was located. Being from an assassin's guild, she was not in this building to make nice with the ruler of Varris. She was here to cause political unrest by assassinating the most powerful woman in the Fringe, which was all the territory that the ruler of Varris controlled.

The woman surveyed her surroundings, looking for an alternate route to the secluded balcony on which the Varris "queen" would be located. She quickly spotted one. She went up an unguarded flight of stairs all the way to the third floor, taking the steps two at a time. Her bag and sword didn't impede her movement, despite being loose on her body. She was glad she had decided to wear a leather tunic and trousers instead of a dress, like society dictated women to wear.

Miranda arrived on the landing and rapidly scoped her surroundings. No one bothered to spare her a glance, something she was glad for. They were all too preoccupied with drinking and dancing. She was on the right side of the building, near a row of rooms, probably with the doors locked. She had a clear view of the balcony where her target was located. Her perfect eyesight allowed her to pinpoint who she needed to kill. The guards surrounding the ruler of Varris, this Aria T'Loak, all were clad in the same armor as the ones downstairs and outside, aside from the three scarlet stripes on their shoulders. The stripes must symbolize that they're the queen's personal force. There were seven guards in total. However, it was not the guards she was searching for.

Seated on an obsidian leather couch was a woman. From where Miranda stood, or crouched actually, she could see that the woman clearly ran the establishment and city. Aria T'Loak, as she was called, apparently didn't follow society's rules on how to dress, either. She wore a white tunic with red and black trimming. Her pants were a deep brown, almost black. Across her waist was a thick, scarlet sash with a foreign symbol in the center. The woman's features were quite striking from what the assassin could see, which was not much. For instance, she could not see the color of the ruler's eyes. She could, however, see the cocoa brown hair that looked as though someone had taken a knife and razored the ends. The hair reached slightly past her shoulders. Despite its messy appearance, the hairstyle suited the rugged character of this Aria T'Loak.

Miranda withdrew a knife from the sash around her waist. Knife throwing was one of her better talents, the highest scorer in her class at Grissom Academy in Anadius. Every weapon she threw, no matter if it was a simple knife or a giant axe, hit the target she was aiming at. The assassin took care in aiming at her would-be victim. Miranda pulled back her arm and launched the knife and a speed too swift for the human eye to follow. She watched the trajectory that the knife travelled along.

Aria T'Loak, queen of the Fringe and ruler of Varris, the city of beauty and despair, felt some unknown weapon sailing toward her comfortable position.

Just before Aria knew the weapon, presumed to be a knife, would impact painfully with her body, she plucked it out of its fatal path. She examined the knife, for it was indeed a knife, and noted its intricate designs. It was double edged, with a slit down the center of the blade on both sides. The handle looked the same as the other half of the dagger, aside from slight grooves for a hand to fit in. A strange sigil was branded into the pommel of the weapon. It looked like two halves of a vertically stretched hexagon outlined by two more halves of the same shape.

Aria stood, pocketing the knife in her ruby sash. The woman sluggishly turned around, facing the direction that the offending weapon originated from. She spied a woman with dark, brunette hair and an appalled expression of the third floor. This person was not a familiar face at all, yet Aria felt as though she had known her for as long as time had existed. This person was also undoubtedly the would-be perpetrator.

She brought up her hand lazily and curled her finger in a gesture for the assailant to come.

"Bray, go retrieve that woman," Aria said. Her voice washed over those in her immediate vicinity like a wave of satin. Accompanying the order was a lethal undernote that instructed Bray, her second in command, not to defy her. His armor clanked together as he left the secluded room.

Aria sat back down on her leather sofa, relaxing into her previous position. She rested her arm on the back of the couch and crossed her legs. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, awaiting the arrival of Bray and this mysterious woman that had just tried to assassinate the queen of Varris. Suddenly, she decided to make this near future meeting more private. She stood back up and leaned slightly over the balcony.

"All right," Aria announced, her silken voice booming over all the commotion of the tavern. "I want everyone out. Now."

There were sounds of protest but everyone quickly filed out of the building.

The door to Aria's private room opened. She turned around and let her glacier eyes fall on this assassin, this woman who dared try to kill the great Aria T'Loak. From far away, Aria knew the woman was certainly striking, but up close it was even worse. Her very presence caused Aria's pulse to quicken, something that had not happened to the empress in many, many years. The way the coffee colored locks fell perfectly over chiseled shoulders, how this brunette's pale azure eyes seemed to pierce straight through all of the walls that made up Aria. She tried to avoid looking at the woman's supple curves and ample assets and failed. To cover her momentary lapse in control, she decided to give her would-be aggressor a thorough once over.

"So, you assassinate my guards outside," Aria began, using the most soothing and deadly voice that she could muster. "You search for the prime spot to kill me and expect to leave without a trace." Aria turned and looked out at the vacant bottom floor. "Am I correct?"

"Does it matter if I answer?" a bland tone responded. The sound of Aria's attacker's voice sent odd shivers down the ruler's spine. Another feeling she had not experienced for quite some time. Aria could also detect a faint accent.

Aria turned and faced this woman.

"Tell me your name and I might spare your life." The arched, thin brow that Aria received formed a wicked grin on her face. "Yes, I know that sounds terribly cliché, but it must be said. Now, would you be so kind, my perfect enemy, to give me your name? I do not enjoy asking twice."

The dark haired beauty, or so Aria liked to believe, showed visible hesitation in her eyes. After a few moments, Aria guessed that she would not receive an answer. She once more turned to face the bottom floor of her favorite location in the Fringe. She rested her hands on the chilly, marble railing and let her hair cascade into her eyes.

"You aren't a foolish woman, Aria T'Loak," the woman behind her said. "I'm sure you have informants everywhere, telling you whenever a noble so much as scratches his arse. You know my accent, you know the only place in the Reach of the King where that accent originates from. But I will give you my name, if only to humor you and your games. I am Miranda Lawson from Anadius."

"You trained at Grissom Academy, I would assume, then," Aria surmised.

"Yes," Miranda replied.

"Get out of here," Aria commanded from the guards. "I'll call you if I need you." None of the guards moved. "Now," she snapped.

They quickly exited the room, being shuffled along by Bray.

"Have a seat," Aria instructed. She gestured to the furniture next to her. The queen herself sat down, settling into the worn leather. She felt a casual smile grace her features in reference to her favorite couch.

**AN: Any comments, concerns, or otherwise? It would all be greatly appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**AN: I apologize for the sudden switch in viewpoints. It is simpler for me to write in first person than third. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Mass Effect universe and more than likely never will, much to my detriment.**

**_Aria's POV_**

I watch as my failed assassin sits down on the couch next to me, relaxing as though she owns the city, not me. I am amused by how defiant and confident she seems.

"I would advise that you do not act like you own this place, Miranda," I say, using my calmest tone. "It would not bode well for you if you carry on in this manner."

"If you were as truly threatening as your reputation would have me believe, then you would have ordered your guards to kill me, which they would have failed at." Miranda adopts an even cockier air. "You could have also had me dragged here to kill me yourself, though I get the impression that you believe you are above that. Since neither of these cases apply, I am inclined to believe that you have ulterior motives for having us alone with no one watching. So, Aria T'Loak, great Empress of Varris, why do you have us alone? Why did you gesture, so dauntlessly, for me to approach you? I just tried to kill you, yet you have me sit next to you as though we have been friends for ages."

If she expects me to be surprised by her accurate assumption, she should be sorely let down. I push some of my hair out of my face, only to have the strands take up their previous position.

"If you are so confident in your ability to assess my actions," I retort coldly. "Then how about you tell me why we are alone?"

Miranda jumps at the opportunity. "Because you—"

I grasp the hilt of my own dagger, buried in the leg of my right boot. It is a custom made knife, with the handle made so it fit perfectly in my grip. I whip out the weapon and move faster than is humanly possible to hold the blade of the knife against Miranda's neck.

"Do not presume to know me, Miss Lawson," I whisper fiercely. "No one knows who I really am, and I intend to keep it that way. Save your mind games for someone who is considerably more gullible than me. Or I will make my threats a reality instead of just your nightmares." I let the razor edge bite into her skin, drawing a hint of her blood.

The minutest trace of fear glints in her pale, stunning eyes. I mentally shake myself to get rid of the poisonous thoughts I am experiencing toward the woman whose throat I hold a knife to.

"Why did your boss send you here?" I demand. My voice rises to near shouting. "Huh? Everything is perfect in the Land of Light! The only political problems that exist are what your employer and your clique strike up." I notice a peculiar expression cross her features, one of admittance at what I say. I lower my voice to what I know is a terrifying whisper. "So that's why Timothy sent you." I take my favored knife away from the woman's neck. "I understand you have a mission to complete, Miss Lawson. You might want to do so now. It's the ideal time and location." I retrieve my white, leather coat and turn around completely, awaiting the decision of this Miranda Lawson, if that is even her real name. I shrug on my jacket, sliding my arms into the familiar sleeves. The length of the garment is longer than most, and much more expensive than any not born of noble blood could afford. It reaches down to my knees, something some of my mercenary groups think is ridiculous.

It seems like an eternity before I feel something sharp and cold prick my through the fabric of my clothing.

A sorrowful expression crosses my hidden features. I can tell that the person behind me is trying her hardest to push her sword into my skin and in my heart. I move my head as though to look at my right flank.

Quietly I speak, "You cannot fathom the amount of times I have waited for someone to end my prolonged existence. And you believe that you can do that with one simple thrust? No, I can't die so easily. Leave your things here, Miss Lawson. You can stay in this room tonight. We can talk in the morning, if I still find that you are here."

I face forward once more and stride to the door. I grab the metal handle and twist. Just before I leave the room, I gaze back at Miranda Lawson, my failed assassin and say, "I wish I could, though. Die like the rest of you mortals."

I walk out of my "command station" and to my personal quarters on the fourth floor.

I had decided many years ago that crimson was a color that suits me well. After all, the doors and tapestry of my luxurious tavern matches that color. I open the door in front of me, the one that leads to my home for over three hundred years. Inside is perhaps the most lavish living area anywhere in the Fringe or the Land of Light. The foyer is decorated similarly to the main hall of a castle. Marble statues of the previous rulers of Varris and various animals acted as columns for the apartment. Cherry wood tables line the walls, along with vibrant paintings of different landscapes and time periods. Along the floor is a rug woven from my favorite hue of red with gold lacing the edges of the large accessory. I stroll further into my not so humble abode and am greeted with the sight of the immense living room. The ceiling stretches well over ten feet and has golden ribbons streaming from countless spots. Furniture matching the things in my private balcony are placed near the fireplace. There is another couch, two arm chairs, and a reclining chair, which is an uncommon feature, even for this time period. A carpet similar to the one in the foyer covers the marble tile surface. Two, small tables made from glass and metal rest at each end of the couch.

I continue my small trek to my bedroom, which is down a hallway past the extravagant kitchen. I walk through the door into the room and immediately launch myself onto the massive, four-poster bed. I immerse myself in the silk and chiffon bedspread. It, of course, matches the rest of the fabric in the establishment, only with mellower tones. The lamps on the bedside table and in the four corners illuminate the entire room. A small painting of myself in my younger days was on the wall near the bathroom. The only reason I keep it is for a reminder not to lose who I truly am, not that anyone in this god-forsaken city would care.

I roll onto my back and stare at the diamond and obsidian chandelier above me. The lit candles throw out prisms from the diamonds. I close my eyes, not bothering to change out of my outfit from the day.

I wake up to a cold sensation coursing through my chest. Without opening my eyes, I know what it is. I reach my right hand over my heart and grasp something warm.

A wrist.

I quickly yank it away from my body as my eyes fly open.

As I had suspected, it is indeed Miranda Lawson.

I fling her body away with a flare of the dark blue energy that fuels my existence.

"How many times will I need to tell you before you understand, Miss Lawson?" I ask, voice hoarse from my interrupted slumber. "Stop trying to kill me. It won't work." I rise from my horizontal position and experience a slight pain in my chest. I look down and spot a familiar knife lodged between my ribs where my heart is located.

"How many of these damn things do you have?" I inquire as I remove the weapon. I throw it and it thunks into a nearby wall. I don't expect her to respond. The hole created by the blade sealed quickly. "Great. Now that'll be sore for a few hours."

Miranda stumbles up to her feet, shaking her head. I swing my legs over the side of my enormous bed and rest my arms on my knees. Miranda gains enough sense to pull something out of her waistband and launch it at me. Another knife wedges itself in my ribs. I grunt at the impact. I feel yet another dagger hit me. After a few seconds, there are five knives stuck in my chest.

I give the woman across from me a droll stare.

"Really," I say. I lower myself from the bed and advance toward the door to my bedroom. I open it. "Get out. Unless you're going to stay here and chat, or throw more knives at me."

The brunette quickly exits without a second glance, shutting the door soundly on the way out.

I release a long groan as I pull out the daggers, wincing as the blades leave my skin. I feel the wounds seal themselves and look down to see a faint blue aura underneath the thick fabric of my tunic. I also see that I can't wear this shirt anymore. It has rips from where the knives tore the fabric. I stride to my closet and choose a new outfit consisting of a sleeveless, black shirt with a pair of black pants. Every item in my closet was made from silk, satin, or chiffon and I don't know why. I've never cared about my appearance; every piece of clothing I owned was a gift from some noble when I had overtaken Varris.

I wander to the window and pull aside the crimson drapes, gazing out into the center of the city I hold under my command. It's currently the dead of night. The only things on the streets are stray animals and the occasional drunk stumbling home to the wife he undoubtedly cheats on. The lamps that are lit cast warm light in the near-vacant plaza. From my window, I admire the massive crystal and onyx fountain in the center. It is carved to look like a colossal wolf, three stories tall, howling at the full moon. I always like looking at it. Reminds me of myself. Well, how it's a lone wolf, not running with a pack.

I lift myself up to sit on the bay window sill. I lean my head back against the wooden lining and close my eyes once more, hoping that my sleep won't be so rudely interrupted again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**AN: I just wanted to say thank you for the reviews. They truly are greatly appreciated. Good news is that I won't be one of the authors that withholds a chapters because I don't get reviews. So again, thanks to those of you that have followed, favorited, or reviewed my story. It means a lot. And I'll warn you kiddos now; I'll be back in school in the next few days so my update speed with be severely hampered.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Mass Effect universe and more than likely never will, much to my detriment. Because I would totally be okay with owning Aria.**

Two weeks. Two weeks since that Miranda Lawson tried to kill me. Tried to fuck my life over and failed. I have heard no mention of my attacker since that night. I've contacted innumerable associates of mine, attempting to find a trace of her so I could successfully return the favor. But this woman refuses to be found, which, in turn, makes it that much more entertaining to locate her. However, I've adopted a new strategy towards her.

Hunt her down myself.

In the two weeks since I was so offensively assaulted, not only in my tavern, but in the supposed safety of my bedroom, I became even bitterer. Ordinarily, I am a world-class asshole. Now, though, I am perhaps seven times worse. My typical endless patience has flown out the window, along with my tolerance for the bullshit I am tossed everyday by those under my authority. Something else that irritates me is that I dream about her. Every night for two weeks her presence has decided to treat itself to my dreams. This, I know, is what has me so…on edge. I have yet to tell anyone about what's going on, even Bray. No, especially not Bray. I'd never go to him about something like this.

But I do know who I'd go to instead. And with his help, I'll easily track her down.

I set my glass of amber liquid down on the white, crystal table in front of me.

"Bray," I say to the platinum headed man. I look at him, which is something I rarely do. To most women, and probably some men, he would be considered attractive, with his navy blue eyes and well-kept beard. He has a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and a straight nose. Under the armor he wears, he's a built man, with large arms and equally muscular legs. Some say that he has the torso of a sculpted hero. Or so some of the customers at Inferno tell me.

"Yeah, boss?" His voice is probably what deters most of his love interests. It's higher pitched than what a man's typically is.

"I need you to hold down the fort for a while. I have to go take care of something." I rise from my favorite piece of furniture, smoothing out my wine-colored shirt and flattening my black pants. The pants are made from hardened leather and the shirt is fashioned from chenille imported from the Citadel, the King's castle and city.

"Sure thing, girl." Another thing that might deter women is that he's into men.

I move to the ornate, iron coat rack in the corner of my little throne room and grab a roughspun cloak. The material is a dull olive tone with frayed edges. It's possibly my most beloved article of clothing. It's more comfortable than anything else I wear.

I walk out of my reserved balcony and down the stairs as I pull on the cloak. I tug the thick hood over my head, covering my notorious features so I can wander down the streets of Varris without getting harassed. Opening the large, double doors of the tavern Inferno, I step out into early nighttime in the City of the Wicked. And into a monstrous thunderstorm. Wonderful.

The heart of this city disguises the immorality that exists here. Everything in the center seems to be gilded in gold and bronze and have an iridescent glow. In the midday sun, Varris looks akin to a city straight from the Palace in the Sky. I cast my gaze up, shielding my face from the rain, to look at the lone wolf fountain, once again admiring a sculptor's massive creation. The way it sparkles in the lamplight is stunning. It is one of the most breathtaking things in the Land of Light, besides myself, of course.

As I travel to the outskirts of Varris, I can't help but to regard the architecture of it all. Every building is made from marble, bronze, iron, and slate. In the streets farther away from the main plaza, the fountains become less extravagant. They begin to lose their showy design. The streets themselves aren't paved with cobblestones and brick anymore. They transform into well-travelled dirt roads. The buildings become structures made entirely of wood and grey slabs of stone. These areas of the city show the poverty and despair that goes hand in hand when living in Varris. Being the Pirate Queen, I can't bring myself to care. Being poor is a risk everyone takes when they move into my city. If they want an easy lifestyle and a secure job, they should relocate to the Citadel or somewhere more homely, like Sur'Kesh. I hear the weather there is quite tropical, being in the South and all. Ideal living conditions, or so I'm told.

Shaking myself from my inner musings, I find myself facing one of the countless blacksmith shops in Varris. It's near the outer rim so it isn't as aesthetically appealing as the inner rim of the city. It's two stories and made from sun-bleached wood and pale grey stones. It has a peaked roof that's held together by tightly woven straw and slate shingles. The oaken door opens and I'm greeted by a highly familiar face. I raise my head and flash a cocky smile.

"Nyreen Kandros," I say. "As I live and breathe."

I look up at the woman, a bit taller than my height of five feet and nine inches, standing in the covered doorway in front of me. She has olive-toned skin that suits her well, jade eyes that are brought out by her ebony hair that's streaked with red. She also has a crimson stripe that reaches across her straight nose and soft cheekbones. Her overall appearance looks rugged, most likely due to the fact that she wore a filthy blacksmith's uniform that consisted of a worn apron and burgundy shirt with the long sleeves rolled over her well-developed forearms.

Nyreen flicks some of her short, choppy hair out of her eyes and leans against the side of the door while crossing her arms.

"Well, I'll be damned," Nyreen says. Her voice is about as smooth as a piece of low grade sandpaper. "If it isn't the great Empress herself showing up on my door step, soaked to the bone. Wouldn't be the first time I've seen you wet." She throws me a smirk from her full lips.

"Yeah, well, I see your still sporting that outlandish haircut," I reply.

"Yours is identical," she retorts.

"Ah, but here lies the difference," I shoot back. "Mine actually looks appealing. Now, are you going to leave a friend out here to waste away in this downpour? Or will you be charitable towards me?" Lightning flashes and thunder claps, enhancing the impact of my words.

"Oh, get in here." Nyreen quickly ushers me through the doorway to her shop. "Head upstairs. I'll fix you something to warm your stomach."

A few minutes later I sit in the upstairs portion of the blacksmith's shop. It doubles as her home because I spot a bedroom off down a short hallway. From what I remember, I note that there's still the bed with a forest green quilt cover, a tall wardrobe, a writing desk with her financial books and papers strewn across it, and a large safe holding what I assume are gems, purses filled with golden coin, and other valuable trinkets. Where I sit now is a small, wooden table with matching chairs. The chairs both have feather cushions on them, which I'm pleased with. Through an open doorway is the kitchen itself. I spy in there and see that nothing has changed, aside from the ingredients of food scattered on the two counters. The same blue tiled countertops accented by rich, brown wood.

"So," Nyreen starts. She joins me at the small table, handing me a bowl of steaming pheasant soup. "What is it that allows you to bring your graceful presence over here to my humble abode?"

I decide to go all business. "I need help locating someone and I know you're the best at this." I grab a spoon from the table and cautiously take a bite, not wanting to burn my mouth.

"This is true," Nyreen says quietly. She speaks louder. "Who is this person?"

"I'm surprised you haven't heard already. Miranda Lawson. She tried killing me in Inferno and then while I was sleeping."

"You know who she works for? That'll help a lot. And a description, so I know what this chick looks like."

"For one, she works for the White Star, that elitist group that serves only to get war started so they can profit. She would be a terrific assassin if she could complete her missions. And as for what she looks like? Dark brown hair, icy blue eyes, flawless body, strong Anadian accent, about my height." Recollecting my assassin's features caused a warm feeling to course through my torso. It is both unfamiliar and unpleasant.

Nyreen gives me a look.

"All right," she says. "I'll look into it. Finish your soup before you—oh, you already did. I'll take that for you, then. You should probably get back to Inferno before Bray makes a mess of the place."

"No kidding."

I rise from my chair as Nyreen grabs my bowl.

"By the way, Aria, I saw that look you had when you were describing Lawson."

I continue walking down the stairs, past the blacksmith forge, and grab my half-dried cloak from the rack. Just before I open the door, I say, "I have no clue what you're talking about." I open the wooden door and step back out into the storm.

Immediately I am assaulted with cold droplets of rain. I quickly dawn my cloak, pulling the hood over my head once more. I wander into the mud-filled streets again. I accidentally step into a large pool of water, getting my boot soaked.

I know this city better than anyone, having lived in it for over three hundred years. I know all of the alleys not to venture into and all of the best places to buy clothing. Tonight, though, I am choosing to do something risky. Cooped up on my private balcony in Inferno, nothing dangerous ever happens, aside from the occasional bar fight, which is quickly handled. So now, I travel down one of the darkest alleys in Varris. I see no one on the doorsteps to houses or shops. What I do see is a severe lack of lamps. I might have someone come remedy that in the future.

Suddenly, I feel something slam into my back. I fall down face first into a puddle of water. The near-freezing liquid splashes into my hair and makes me shut my eyes. I struggle to my knees, only to have something shove me down me down once more. I feel something sharp pierce my lower back, near my spine.

"Fuck," I seethe. "That hurt, you bastard." I push myself to my feet as quickly as I can, flipping my waterlogged, old robe out of my way.

I turn to face my attacker. A bolt of lightning illuminates the sky long enough for me to see who this assailant is.

"Well, well, well," I say slowly. "If it isn't Miranda fucking Lawson." I rush at her and grasp her arm in a vice grip. I spin her around and wrench her arm behind her back. "I won't say I'm glad to see you but this certainly helps in saving me valuable resources trying to find your ass."

Miranda, dressed completely in black leather armor, pulls something out of one of the pouches on her hips with her free arm. She swiftly thrusts it into my side. Another knife. I wince with pain and briefly loosen my grip on her arm. It's all she needs to get away. She then draws a sword out of a sheath on her hip.

I pull the blade out of my side and throw off my cloak. Instantly, the rain soaks through my clothing. I also realize that there's still a knife in my back. I quickly yank it out and feel the wound seal up.

"I won't cease trying to kill you," Miranda says, her Anadian accent thick in her voice. "Not until I figure out how to actually do it, you witch."

"Now, that's just cruel," I tell her. "I can't help that I'm powerful, desirable, and perfect in every way."

She propels herself at me. I barely dodge her sword, getting my left sleeve cut off in the process. The sharp blade opens up my skin for a brief moment. It closes back up in the blink of an eye. I turn to face Miranda, who landed behind me. She charges me and launches into a flurry of hacking and slashing at me. I dodge each blow as best as I can but the woman ends up tearing my clothing to shreds, much to my annoyance. I continue to block her attacks with my arms and jump over her low cuts. When I go to attack her flank, she immediately twists and covers it. I can feel both of us tiring. I have yet to bring out the dark, hot energy that courses through my veins, wanting to save that for when I truly need it.

Finally, I find an opening. She overreaches with her blade and I land a solid punch to her rib cage. I grip her sword arm with my left hand and grab her neck with my other hand. I slam her down on the ground, her back landing hard and knocking the wind out of her chest.

"You're coming with me," I say in her ear. I hit the junction of her neck and shoulder, effectively knocking her out.

I run a hand through my drenched hair, removing it from my eyes. I retrieve my filthy cloak from a puddle of water and mud and throw it over my shoulders. I don't bother drawing the hood up. I evade a couple more puddles as I walk back to Miranda's body. I pick up a few knives from the ground, as well as her sword. I shove the sword in my signature crimson sash, along with the daggers. I lift Miranda's unconscious body over my left shoulder and head back to the center of the city, to Inferno.

**AN: Questions, comments, concerns, tips? All are greatly appreciated!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Mass Effect universe and more than likely never will, much to my detriment. Because I would totally be okay with owning Aria.**

Arriving at Inferno, I open the large, front door and find the first floor nearly empty. The only noticeable people are the bartenders and the occasional exotic dancer. Those men and women aren't dancing now, though. They're sitting on the velvet couches sipping from glasses with colorful liquids inside. I search for my second-in-command, not seeming to find him anywhere in sight.

"Bray!" I yell. My voice echoes around the Inferno.

A set of footsteps thumps heavily on the third floor.

I roll my eyes. I readjust the woman I have on my shoulder. She's surprisingly heavy.

"Yeah, boss?" He's now coming down the stairs to the first floor. He's struggling to rearrange his royal blue robes. The robes are fashioned to cover his legs completely, half of his broad chest and over his left shoulder. I swear there are easily over a hundred different folds in the rich fabric.

"Get your ass over here and help me with this," I snap.

He rushes the rest of the way down the steps. He hurries over to me and takes Miranda off of my shoulder. He carries her like a sack of potatoes.

"We're taking her up to my apartment," I tell him. I hand him the key to unlock it. "Set her down in a chair and make sure she doesn't leave. I need to get some rope and put these weapons away."

He takes the key and walks back up the stairs to the fourth floor.

I turn to face the double doors underneath my command station. I walk over to them and open one side. Behind these doors was one of my favorite places in Varris.

My personal armory.

The room was enormous. Each wall was thirty strides long and on those walls hung every weapon imaginable. There were long bows, short bows, lances, whips made from solid metal, pikes, halberds, daggers with wicked blades, greatswords, claymores, battleaxes, and other weapons that didn't even own names. Scattered in numerous sports were stone and metal tables with armaments in various states of dismemberment. Blades have yet to be attached to their respective hilts. Bows need to be finished being carved and strung. There were also some weapons that were being experimented on. One looks like someone fused two swords together and inserted a wooden handle between them. Another one is a monstrous scythe with three, curved blades made of ebony, one of the strongest metals in the Land of Light.

Searching on the right wall, I find what I came for. A long, coiled rope hung on one of the innumerable hooks. I stride over to it and remove it from its hook. I then walk to one of the tables and put Miranda's sword there, along with all of her knives.

Seeing the knives and sword reminds me of my tattered clothing, which was barely staying on my toned frame. They also remind me that I have other things to take care of, like a certain annoying assassin in my apartment.

I walk back out of the massive room. I sprint up the stairs to the fourth floor, wrapping the rope across my shoulder and chest. I take the stairs two at a time. When I arrive on the top floor, I'm not even winded. I briskly walk to my door, which is slightly ajar. Light spills out onto the crimson carpet in front of the door. I enter my apartment and see that Miranda Lawson is still out cold and seated on one of the armchairs located near the lit fireplace. Bray is standing behind her chair, ever vigilant. I mentally roll my eyes.

I unravel the rope from my body and toss it to him.

"Tether her wrists and ankles," I tell him. "I don't want her ruining my clothing again."

Bray binds the unconscious woman's arms and legs to the chair. For extra measure, he uses the remaining rope to secure her chest to the back of the chair.

"Go get a few buckets of water," I say. "We'll end up needing them. I need to…" I gesture towards my shredded outfit. Bray nods in understanding.

We go in our separate directions. I enter my bedroom and head straight for the walk-in closet. I open the paneled doors and travel to the area that holds my robes. I slip off my buckled boots and peel off the tattered and soaked remains of my shirt and pants. Because my underclothes are drenched as well, I'm forced to take them off. I quickly grab a robe, crimson of course, and wrap it around my body, pulling some of the luxurious fabric over my shoulders. I grab a gilded gold version of the sash I always wear and situate it around my waist. I make sure that the Inferno symbol is displayed in the center. I walk out of the closet while trying to fix my drying hair by running my hands through it.

I return to the living room to see Bray lounging on the sofa. I'm about to ask him where the buckets of water are when I see three wooden buckets in front of him.

"All right," I say. "Let's get her up."

Bray rises from his horizontal position and grabs the handle of one of the pails. He stands in front of Miranda's sleeping form. I gesture for him to go ahead with a wave of my hand. The cold water sloshes onto Miranda's face and she wakes up with an enormous gasp and a coughing fit.

"What the hell was that for?" Miranda demands, spitting water out of her mouth.

"You're hardly in a position to be asking anything, Miss Lawson," I tell Miranda.

The bound woman struggles against the rope that inhibits her movement. She grunts in frustration when she realizes she can't escape. I sit down in the arm chair across from her.

"You can go, Bray," I say quietly. "I'll handle this from here out."

Bray walks out, his steps muffled by his cloth shoes.

"I'm sure you like the sight of me being tied up, don't you?" she asks indignantly, after the door shuts.

A large smirk crosses my features and I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "I'm sure you'd love to know." Truth is, something stirs in my lower abdomen at the thought of having her subjected to my will. I mentally shake myself to dispel these thoughts.

Miranda sneers a bit, like she knows what just went through my mind. "I don't need your answer on that. I already know."

"Go fuck yourself," I snap.

"A bit hard with these bindings on. Want to do it for me?"

I roll my eyes and change the topic. "So why do you insist on trying to murder me?"

"I told you already. I won't stop trying until I succeed. And I will eventually." Her expression is one of pure conviction. Her pale blue eyes bore into mine.

"Let me rephrase that. Why don't you just lay off my ass and stop trying to kill me? Why don't you utilize your skills for me? I really could use someone with your obvious talent." I toss a smile at her. "Plus, I pay a lot better than anything your boss could hope to pay you."

"I'm not you, Aria," Miranda states. "Money doesn't matter to me."

"Then what does matter?" I ask. I don't like the note of sincerity in my voice and I know Miranda will notice it.

"What matters to me is loyalty," she replies. "If you can somehow gain my respect for you, then I'll come work for you and stop trying to kill you. But not a moment sooner."

"And how is it that you want me to gain your respect? What miraculous task must I perform for me to earn that?"

Miranda considers this for a time.

"Prove to me that you're willing to drop everything at a moment's notice to help someone in need. And you have to help them from the goodness of your heart, not so you can profit."

"And here I thought that your request wouldn't try to change me." I shake my head in disbelief. "Who am I supposed to find that needs my help? Why should I bother helping them if it doesn't help me?"

"Your attitude right now is definitely not serving your case positively. If you keep going like this, you'll never gain my loyalty."

I feel myself wanting to gain this woman's respect at any cost, even if it means changing where my priorities lie. This urge is so out of character for me that my mind tries to dismiss the irrational request. Why should I want to please the woman who sits in my living room, tied up and who I can bend to my will if I need to? Why does some part of me desperately want to keep her around, if only so I can hear her melodic voice? Why does another part of my mind think she looks very appealing in her toughened, black armor? Why do I feel like she's the one who needs my help, not some stranger? Most importantly, why have I not been able to get this woman off of my mind?

"Okay, fine," I snap, highly irritated from my conflicting thoughts and emotions. "Just tell me who I need to assist. And how the fuck do you get to demand things from me? You're the one who's bound to a chair, not me."

"You'll find someone who need help a lot sooner than you think," Miranda simply says.

"One more thing. If I let you out of those restraints, are you going to try and kill me?"

"How about you don't be a little chicken shit and find out?" is her snarky response.

I seriously consider leaving her in the chair, but my newfound better judgment propels me to rise from my chair and undo her bindings. I start with her legs, untying the large knot that Bray put in place. I note that the pants have what look like reinforced knee pads and cargo pouches on the sides of the thighs. I also notice that there's six knife sheaths on both pant legs. As I move to undo her wrists, I examine the chest piece of her armor. Numerous belts and buckles secure the piece to her torso. Along some of the thicker belts are more small pouches that seem to have something stored inside them. Once I'm done with untying her hands, I move around to the back of the chair and unravel that knot.

"There," I say, stepping away from the chair. "You're free to go, unless you want to keep investigating ways to kill me."

Without warning, Miranda leaps out of her chair and at me. I'm not quite sure how she manages to do it, but somehow she does. Her impact makes me fall to the ground, hitting my head on the corner of a table on the way down. I land facedown and quickly attempt to get up again. No such luck. A heavy pressure, a knee I assume, pushes me back down to the chilly, marble floor. I feel a slender pair of hands grab at my chin and shoulder. There's a sudden yank, a loud snap, and a shit ton of pain.

Bitch. She just broke my neck.

A series of sickening crunches follows in the short seconds after that. My neck heals itself, though it still hurts a great deal.

I really need to practice fighting again. It would seem as though I'm a bit rusty.

Dark, hot energy courses through me and I decide to utilize it. An azure aura surrounds me and heats up my eyes. I'm sure that my eyes now match the deep blue hue that envelopes me.

I push myself up with the preternatural strength that flows in my veins. I quickly twist around and snatch Miranda up in a stony tight grip. She squirms but I only squeeze my arms tighter. I lean my head back as far as I can to distance myself from her flawless face and full lips. Some part of me, the part that desperately wants to gain her favor, wants to close the distance between us but I refuse. And not without effort.

A piece of her coffee brown hair falls into her eyes and she futilely tries to relocate it by blowing up at it.

"Snapping my neck doesn't work," I say, my voice rough with both annoyance and pain.

I feel something sharp slice a deep path across my stomach. The pain is white hot and enough for me to let Miranda free herself from my grip. I double over and grip my stomach, waiting for the wound to seal up. It does after a moment. Now, the only thing I'm left with is a torn robe.

Which is about to fall off my body and leave me exposed.

Miranda catches me off guard once again with a well-placed blow to my shoulder, effectively dislocating it.

"I swear to the gods," I force out through gritted teeth. "If you break any of this furniture, I will have that gorgeous face of yours for a plaque on my trophy wall."

"Finally you show some fight," Miranda exclaims. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd lost your sense of ruthlessness."

This woman is seriously starting to piss me off. I jerk my shoulder back into place with a low groan. I then shoot myself at her, feet first, and connect squarely with her stomach. She flies into a nearby wall and thuds onto the ground. When she slides down, I see a web of cracks spreading out from where she hit the marble. She scrambles to her feet and shakes her head, probably to dispel stars in her vision. She attempts to run at me and stumbles from her delirious state.

"That is enough!" I bellow. The unearthly energy that still exists in me amplifies my voice. She stops in her tracks. "Just…enough, already. We've established that I can't die from anything you've tried so far. No knives, swords, poison, and not breaking vital bones in my body. You won't find out how to kill me, not now and not ever. I will not perish by your hand, Miranda. And you're staying here tonight." She begins to protest by I cut her off. "You're in no shape to be walking anywhere, especially not in my city. Now come on, you're using my bed. I'm sure it's better than whatever wooden cot you've been sleeping on lately."

Miranda walks, supporting herself with the edges of the furniture. I notice she's quite shaky on her legs and before I know what's happening, she's fallen on the ground.

I swear colorfully and rush over to pick up her unconscious, again, form. Her dark brown hair is scattered in a mock halo around her head. I put one arm beneath her knees and the other around her slender shoulders. I pull her body flush against mine and her head rests on my shoulder. I'm suddenly very happy that my robe is staying on.

As I walk down to my bed chamber, I try my best to ignore how natural it feels to hold the woman in my arms. Unwillingly, I smell a faint aroma of vanilla and something darker, some scent that I can't identify. And, more against my will, the smells send shivers down my spine.

I nudge the door to my bedroom open with my toe. I stride over to the luxurious bed and lay Miranda down on the covers. I walk to the other side and pull down the rich fabric. I move Miranda's comatose form under the silken sheets and pull them over her. I realize what I'm doing and roll my eyes.

I just tucked my assassin into bed.

I go to the closet and toss my new ruined robes on the pile with my other torn clothes. I choose a simple, sleeveless red shirt and matching shorts that come below my knees. I also grab some underclothes and put them on. As much as I love cotton fabric, I enjoy satin more because of how heavy the material is and how it folds perfectly over my figure.

Walking back out of the closet, I steal a glance at the person asleep on my bed as I turn out all the oil lamps but one. A part of me wants to lay on the bed next to her and another, more sensible, part wants to be as far away as possible. I decide to compromise with both parts and I take up the position I had sat in two weeks ago. I grab a few pillows from the unused side of the bed and spread them out on the bay window sill. I sit down and prop up one of the pillows on the paneling again. I lean my head back against the paneling and cross my legs.

As I stare out the large window at the main plaza and the enormous fountain of the howling crystal and obsidian wolf, I get lost in my endless train of thoughts. I wonder why I'm becoming soft-hearted towards the woman in my bed, however incriminating that sounds. I wonder why after tossing her into that wall, that I now need to fix, I felt a twinge of regret. I know she feels nothing of the sort towards me. I'm just another target for her to kill. I feel like she secretly enjoys tearing apart my clothing. Which is odd. And not something I want to think about. I change my train of thought to something not as serious.

Who in the world am I supposed to help? Who does Miranda expect me to help? The poor? That won't happen. Does she expect me to get rid of the black market here in Varris? That isn't happening either. Am I supposed to pick up a child's sweet treat off of the ground and dust it off for them? Am I supposed to give counseling to a married couple that's going through a rough patch in their relationship? I suppose I could free any and all indentured servants. And what if it's Miranda herself that needs to be helped? How on earth could she need _my_ help? I speculate further on this train of thought. I have no idea how Miranda could be in trouble, unless it was with the law. That seems obvious, given her profession.

Who needs my help?

More importantly, how can I help someone when all I know how to do is encourage corrupt and immoral behavior?

I rub my eyes and sigh in frustration.

This is insane. I'm not going to change who I am and how I act just for one person's trust and loyalty, even if it means she stops trying to murder me. I don't need to do it. I don't need to help people. I already have everything I need.

But I've already begun to help people. I helped her just now by telling her she needs to stay here so she doesn't get assaulted on the streets. I'm letting her sleep in my fucking bed, for crying out loud. And she knows all of this. She knows I'm getting soft and I can't stand it.

I'm Aria T'Loak, Pirate Queen of Varris and Empress of the Fringe. I can't afford to get soft.

"So what am I supposed to do?" I whisper desperately.

"You do what your heart tells you," a deep, ethereal voice says. It originates from near the writing desk by the window I'm sitting on.

I turn my head and look at the newcomer. I see a much smaller version of the howling wolf from the center plaza resting on his haunches. His diamond and onyx stone fur shimmers in what little light there is in my room. His eyes, instead of being black or white, glow a rich green color, similar to spring leaves. His sharp claws are made from crystalline diamonds as well, sparkling in the lamplight. Even sitting down, the wolf is as tall as I am standing up.

"Thane," I acknowledge quietly. "The only being in the world that has both my trust and life in their grasp. I did not anticipate you showing yourself any time soon." Even in this visage, the wolf was as stunning as his three-story form outside my window.

"Perhaps," he affirms. "It seems as though I am not the only one doing unexpected things." His vibrant eyes have a knowing glint to them.

I don't answer him.

"I feel great waves of confliction emanating from your mind and body," Thane continues. "After all, we are connected. But that is not the issue." He looks at the sleeping form in the safety of my bed. "She is. She is the root of all of your internal and external conflicts as of late."

"Tell me something I don't know," I mutter dejectedly.

"Try to do ask she has asked." Thane ambles over toward my side and sits down once more. "You have already begun the process. Simply continue aiding those in need. You know who they are."

I exhale greatly and begin to pet the wolf sitting next to me, not caring that his body and fur are made from gemstones and crystal spikes. I let the cold stones slide under my hands.

"I swear that you know me better than I know myself," I think aloud.

"That is because I see your predicaments both objectively and personally. We are each other yet we are separate. I know the pain and suffering you refuse to admit to yourself, just as you know mine. We are connected in every way, yet separate in all of the same ways. Our bond is a unique one, one not seen for many millennia. Because of this, I will know the moment you fall for this woman. And you will."

"And this is why you're my curse. Because you're my conscience." I ruffle the small, spiky fur behind his ears and he hums in response. "Okay. I'll help people. But only because you said so."

Thane lithely jumps into the roomy window sill and lies down next to me. I resume stroking his fur as he leans his extremely dense body against me.

We stay like this until the sun signals a new day.

**AN: I decided to make Thane the wolf because he's always seemed like that kind of creature to me. I honestly couldn't think of any other character more fitting and I hope you guys like the fact that I chose him.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Mass Effect universe and more than likely never will, much to my detriment. Because I would totally be okay with owning Aria.**

A little after dawn, I leave my bed chambers for the kitchen. I walk through the open doorway and light a fire in the ashy pit that is located inside the far wall. Above the pit, on a thick metal beam, hang three different cooking containers. One is a large, square piece of iron that has been flattened out to a level surface. Another is a small, cast iron pot which is used for cooking stews and broth. The last is a rotisserie on which a small chicken carcass rests. In the marble walls there are timber shelves with every type of vegetable in or around the Fringe. Some of the plants are imported from the Citadel, Sur'Kesh, Illium, and a small village in the East named Eden. Near the walls in long, granite planters filled with soil grow moss, elves' ears, which is a special type of leaf, grape and tomato vines, along with the rare strawberry vine scattered into the mixture.

I move over to a bulky wooden box that holds pounds of ice and chilled meat. I grab a small ball of sausage and set it on top of the metal sheet. I take a wooden spatula from a nearby countertop and split up the meat into bite-sized pieces. I grab a couple of potatoes and a large red bell pepper from one of the numerous shelves and place them on a counter. I retrieve a chef's knife, a heavy blade as long as my forearm. I begin to slice the potatoes into little cubes and set them aside for the moment. I core the pepper and give it the same treatment as the potatoes. I grab a glass pitcher from one of the cupboards and fill it with water from a basin that's built into the floor. I then remove the lid from the cooking pot and pour the clear water inside. I set the pitcher back into the cupboard where it originated. From another cupboard I grab a small, rust colored pouch with ground spice powder inside. I walk back over to the pot and sprinkle a plentiful amount into the boiling water. I then find a large cloth, place the cut up vegetables on it, ball the cloth up, and dump the contents into the water. I toss the fabric onto the counter nearby and tend to the rapidly-cooking meat. I maneuver the sausage bits around the metal sheet, making sure they all brown evenly. When that's done, I move the meat over to the pot to cook them in with the spices, red pepper, and potato cubes. I stir the mixture with a wooden ladle. I leave the pot momentarily to grab two glass bowls from a cupboard near the one where I got the pitcher. I measure equal amounts of the breakfast into the bowls and take the pot off of the rack. I find two silver spoons and stick each into their own bowl. I carry the two bowls into the living room and place one onto the main table. I keep the other and take it to my bedroom, where my "sleeping beauty" is resting.

Slowly, carefully, I open the door to the bedroom. My bare feet enable me to tread softly over to the bedside table closest to the slumbering brunette. I inaudibly set the steaming breakfast bowl down onto the dark cherry wood table.

I hear rustling behind me and turn to see Miranda sitting up, resting all of her weight on one arm. She looks at me through hooded lids, her normal glacier blue eyes now a dull, groggy indigo. I notice how seeing her like this makes my stomach feel weightless. I quickly smother the feeling.

"What is that?" Miranda inquired sleepily.

"It's your breakfast," I answer. "I would advise letting it cool down a bit."

Miranda rubs her eyes.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" I ask.

"Like I have bulls trying to crash out of my head," she replies. Miranda gives me an odd look, like she's trying to discern something about me.

"Don't get your hopes up, kid," I state firmly, understanding her expression. "I would love nothing more than to toss your ass out of here so I don't have to look at you."

Miranda rises up the rest of the way, picks up the bowl, and begins to eat. I leave the room to return to the living room and my own breakfast.

I rub my eyes and feel a bit of myself reappear from my behavior. I can't stand being pleasant to anyone, least of all someone who tried murdering me numerous times. I don't remember there ever being a time in my life where I was nice to a single person, not even my parents, though I scarcely remember them as it is. I know I'm going to disregard most of what Thane and I discussed last night. I do not need Miranda's help, loyalty, or trust. And if she insists on trying to kill me? I can ban her from the city. Or I can do something much more permanent.

My gut wrenches at that last thought, a feeling that should never occur within me.

I move my thoughts to something more productive. I set my unfinished meal back down onto the table. I wander into the den, which is to the opposite side of the kitchen and bed chamber. Inside, bookshelves line every wall from floor to ceiling. A near infinite number of books and scrolls rested on the shelves. Sealed away behind hidden barriers were books older than the kingdom itself, dating back two millennia at minimum. On the back wall there is another bay window, identical to the one in my bedroom. In front of it sit a high-backed leather chair and a cherry wood office desk. I move to the desk and have a seat in the chair, looking at the various parchment papers in piles on my desk. I examine the paper placed directly in front of me.

Reading it, I notice that an immense, unauthorized shipment has come into the Varris docks. By the looks of the report, the cargo seems to be imported from a desert city known as Tuchanka, far to the west, near the Citadel. A metropolis overrun by brutal human beings whose only gain is to start fights. Much like the White Star, only a hell of a lot less civilized. The shipment probably consists of bows, arrows, swords, and other weaponry used for starting a war. Which means that if someone in my city is conspiring against me, I need to stop these insurgents before they fail at trying to take over. I snort. Fools. If these people have any common sense, they would know that trying to take over my throne is a futile task, doomed to failure. I should let the morons try anyway, just to see how far they get.

Actually, I believe I'll do just that.

I feel a wicked grin spread across my features.

I pick up another piece of parchment and read it. Apparently, some couple is requesting permission to be wed in Inferno next week. I set it into the already towering stack of denied appeals.

I continue sorting out the papers until I hear a rap on the door.

"Come in," I announce, slightly aggravated. The door opens and I see none other than Miranda. I roll my eyes. "What do you want?"

She simply stands at the door, looking at me.

I ignore her, giving my attention back to the papers in front of me. A sheet with lines upon lines of writing detailed a lengthy assessment of the mercenary groups stationed inside the city. Tensions appear to be rising among the Blood Pack, Blue Suns, Eclipse, and the Talons. Remembering the first report I examined, this might be why there's a large shipment of weapons coming in from Tuchanka. I suppose now I have to summon all of the leaders to Inferno and get them to cooperate. I do not need a war going on in my city.

Miranda clears her throat.

"I asked what you wanted and you didn't respond," I said, my voice low. "Why should I pay attention to someone who won't give me an answer? So, I'll ask again. What do you want, Miss Lawson?" I feel my impatience rising at an alarming rate.

She hesitates before asking, "Why are you being so cold right now? Especially after last night."

I chuckle quietly and rest my chin on my interlaced fingers. "Right now? I am always cold, Miss Lawson. I am always cruel. That is why your notion for me to help people is absolutely ludicrous. I am not a woman of charity. I'm not sure what you remember from last night, but I can assure that it was not me being philanthropic. I do not help people and I do not feel sympathy for those suffering. Now, if you'll excuse me. I have work to do." I return my attention once more to the parchment stacked in front of me.

"You're afraid to care," Miranda utters. "You think it'll make you look weak."

I slam my hands on the dense wood as I stand up.

"You should know not to push someone who is very capable of murdering you," I state threateningly. "If you care about your own health, you'll leave this room and this city."

The woman standing in the doorway appears to consider this. Finally, as though realizing I can very well kill her, she leaves, closing the door soundly behind her.

"About damn time," I drone. I sit back down and resume my work for the better part of an hour. I finally finish organizing, denying, and approving various requests.

When I'm done, I walk out of the office and into the foyer. I grab a crimson sash from the rack near the door to my apartment. I wrap the thick band around my waist, the long ends hanging next to my left leg, matching the length of my shorts. I open the door and step out into the fourth floor hallway of Inferno.

I decide it's time to have a talk with the merc leaders.

"All right, why the hell are we here, T'Loak?" Zaeed Massani demands. The man acts like he has a chip on his shoulder toward everyone. I've grown used to it. He looks formidable, having a scar that curls on his right cheek and turns his eye milky white. He is roughly my height, maybe an inch or two taller, and very bulky in his midnight blue armor. On his arm he wears the emblem of his merc group. On a thick, leather belt around his waist he bears numerous knives and swords.

"Because I fucking told you to be here," I tell him vehemently.

We stare at each other unflinchingly until Massani finally looks away. He crosses his arms stubbornly.

"You know why I'm here," I say, my voice hostile. "I recently got word of a massive shipment of weapons from Tuchanka. I want to know who ordered them and why."

Everyone remains silent.

"Okay," I announce, lowering my voice further. "If you worthless pieces of shit don't tell me, I will mandatorily force all of you to join into one mercenary group and name it Omega. I will make you be my slave army. And anyone who steps out of line will be made into an example."

"Aria," Nyreen mutters. "There's no need for that. You don't have to be so cruel."

I look straight at her as I say, "If you would tell me why I have that shipment coming into my port—"

"It isn't your port, T'Loak," Ganar Wrang growls. "It's Blood Pack's." A giant brute of a man, I know him to hail from Tuchanka. His deep brown eyes practically glowed with malice.

I slowly rise from my bar stool in the club known as Afterlife and calmly stride the short distance to where Wrang is sitting. I shoot my black-gloved handout, grip his thick neck, and begin to squeeze. His tanned skin starts to gain a deep red shade that matches his steel armor. Using the dark energy that lives inside me, I lift him from the ground, his feet dangling a foot from the floor.

"Everything in this city is mine, Wrang," I spit at him through gritted teeth. "This port, all of your territory, all of your mercenaries, all of their 'possessions'," I stab a finger in the other merc leaders' directions. "I own you, all of you. You better fucking start acting like it." I throw him down onto the dirt floor, denting his armor. Flicking some hair out of my eyes, I glare at the other merc leaders.

"The shipment was to be distributed among Eclipse soldiers," Sayn says quietly. I look at him. He's hanging his head, letting his platinum blonde hair fall into his eyes. He's a scrawny thing, skinny legs, skinny arms, even a thin face. His pale yellow armor looks too big on his frame.

"Why?" I question. "Why in the gods' names could you need more weapons than you already own? Are you planning to wage war against the other mercenary groups? Do you hope to gain their forces if your kill their leaders? I will not tolerate this behavior, Sayn. And you know I won't."

Sayn looked guiltier than a temple priest caught in a brothel.

"I see." I sit back down on my wooden bar stool. I signal the bartender, a short pixie of a woman with dirty blonde hair cut off at her slender shoulders. She slides me a crystal tumbler filled with ice and amber liquid.

I picked the glass up and downed an unhealthy amount. I slowly squeeze the goblet, the sound of cracking fine glass resounding near me. Finally, the cup shatters into small, sharp pieces.

"You all have let me down," I grind out. "Even when I had no expectations of you. None at all. Yet you still try to ruin this tranquility we have here. And as punishment, your gangs will all be joined under my flag."

I pull out a pirate captain's pistol from my waistband and shoot everyone but Nyreen Kandros in the forehead.

"You." I point my finger at Nyreen. "You're coming with me."

Gripping her by the arm, I storm out of the building.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**AN: Honestly I thought it was time for a little bit of Aria/Miri. So I gave you kids some. Just a hint though. Or maybe not. This story seems to have a mind of its own. My original plotline was tossed out the window a couple of weeks ago. **

"That must have been eventful," Bray announces after I finish telling him what transpired at Afterlife. "Why did you leave Kandros alive, though? She's a merc leader just like them."

A frustrated groan comes out of my chest. "She is the only one who has a conscience. Her forces aren't typical mercenaries. They're fiercely loyal, almost annoyingly so. Added to that, she's a great leader, as much as it pains me to admit. I can use her."

"That makes sense," Bray replies. "However strange that sounds coming from your mouth."

Sitting on the cherry wood desk in my office, I straighten out my white button-up. The top three buttons are undone, revealing my collar bone and some of my chest. I wear dark brown, baggy pants that are tucked into leather boots of an equal hue. My signature crimson sash is in its customary position around my waist.

I laugh, somewhat bitterly. "Yes, it is quite strange. Seeing as how I never really enjoyed the woman much anyway."

Someone bursts through the doorway.

"Aria," a man shouts. I belatedly realize it's Grizz. Another hulking brute of a man. He looks nearly identical to Bray, the same platinum blonde hair, matching blue eyes, and pronounced features. "A woman is here and demands to see you. I've managed to delay—"

Said woman violently pushed past Grizz, knocking him onto the marble floor. As I look at the man sprawled on the floor, I think of how that's quite a feat.

The woman, the infamous Miranda Lawson, stalks toward me. When she's within a foot of me, she knots her fists in my shirt. The gap between our faces is just the width of my finger. I feel her breath on my face, hot, heavy, and slight trace of mint. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bray and Grizz (Gods it's difficult to tell the difference) ready their pistols, aiming at Miranda's skull. I imperceptibly shake my head at them and they lower their weapons.

"Well, well," I scoff, my voice coming out fluidly. "Look who decided to show up. Why are you here, Miranda?"

Her cerulean eyes practically burned with an emotion I've seen many times in the City of the Wicked.

The Anadian accent was thick in her voice when she spoke. "I only came back to do one thing. Because if I don't do it, I won't be able to live with the regret."

"What's the world going to say when I call you out, Miranda?" I sarcastically inquire.

In response to my question, Miranda yanks me by my shirt closer to her. She locks her lips with mine and a searing heat burns through my chest. A feeling that I haven't felt in centuries. I ignore the sensation, abhorring how familiar and alien it is. I also ignore how our mouths fit ideally together and how an immense part of me doesn't appreciate the fact that Bray and Grizz are still in my office. That same part craves more when Miranda finally pulls away. I stare at the reflection of myself in her cobalt eyes, unsurprised at how hungry and animalistic I appear.

"Is that all?" My voice is deeper than usual, huskier. Something else I detest. This woman is only the second person in my long time of existing to make my body react this way.

Examining her features, I can see that her mind seems to agree with my own.

Leaning back against the desk, I inspect Miranda's outfit. It's nearly identical to the one that she wore the night she assaulted me near Nyreen's blacksmith shop. The only difference was that this toughened leather armor was whiter than a winter cloud. The various straps that overlay her chest piece still harbor numerous pouches. The stiff shoulder plate over her left shoulder holds two knife sheathes that are occupied. Her hands this time, however, are uncovered. I feel her soft skin when I remove her hands from my expensive shirt.

"I'll ask again," I tell her. "Is that all you're planning to do on this fine afternoon?"

Miranda then moves one of her smooth hands behind my neck and pulls me in for a second, more intense kiss. It's slower, more pronounced this time, like the assassin doesn't want this to end. The woman tastes like some dark fruit. Cliché, I understand, yet all too true. I refuse to let myself get lost in how Miranda's hand becomes knotted in my choppy hair. I leave my hands on the edge of the desk I'm situated on, gripping the wood tight enough to hear a quiet crack.

This seems to knock Miranda from the haze that envelopes her.

"Well, that was intense," Grizz announces as he clears his throat.

Miranda and I both turn our attention to them and forcefully snap, "Get out."

Grizz immediately departs the room. Bray, however, hesitates but a moment.

"Go, Bray," I tell him. "Obviously I can handle myself."

With that, he leaves, the door remaining open.

When Bray is gone, I simply stare at Miranda, secretly appalled by her recent actions. I don't let it show on my face, however. I keep my expression apathetic.

"I can honestly say that I was not anticipating that course of action from you," I state, subtly narrowing my eyes. "Especially with how you left last time. And the time before. And the time before that." I move away from the woman to sit behind my desk. I kick my boots up onto the hard surface, giving off an air of boredom. "Are you now going to leave in a fit, like the last few times? Or did you decide that your demand of me is ridiculous because you realize that I won't change for anyone?"

Miranda refuses to say anything, just turns around and walks toward the exit. I will have none of this nonsense. I will have answers for this erratic behavior. Summoning up some dark energy, I fling it at the door, which makes it shut soundly, locking the other woman in the room with me. Miranda's gaze whips back at me, her eyes slightly narrower with annoyance.

"You aren't leaving until you answer me, Miranda." I smirk at her. "I have all the time in the world. You do not. So I suggest you start talking."

I see her grinding her teeth down. Such an unhealthy habit. She now is attempting to stare me down, my guess being that she is trying to frighten me into letting her go. That only makes this more amusing for me, yet also more irritating. Miranda is a very strong woman, both emotionally and physically. She has a strikingly dominant personality, something that is made quite apparent with the way she crosses her arms over her perfectly shaped chest.

I give off an irritated sigh. "Being silent will get you nowhere. I always get what I want." I lace my fingers and rest them on my abdomen. "Go ahead and sit down. I can tell we'll be here for a good while."

Miranda stoically remains standing, much to my displeasure. Her blue eyes bore through me indignantly.

"You know what?" she finally says. "I hate you, every part of you. Yet it's impossible for me to get you out of my head. No, I don't think my request for you to aid people in need was ludicrous. I believe that you should still do that. I just…" Miranda rubs her eyes, as though this explanation is wearing her down. "Never mind. You won't care. You're the Pirate Queen of Varris, the city of the immoral and apathetic." She finally sits down, burying her head in her hands.

I feel a wave of sadness wash over me, something unexpected coming from me. I feel a very strange and very foreign urge to comfort this woman who sits across from me.

"I've been known to have rare moments of softness," I nearly whisper. "You can tell me. Although, I have a guess that the person who needs help is you." I get up from my chair and move around my desk to take up my position from earlier. The collar of my nearly unbuttoned shirt opens up further as I lean forward.

I hate how out of character I sound. It truly pisses me off.

"And who would agree to you saying that?" Miranda looks up at me, her eyes moister than usual. "Those that you've dug graves for? The ones you kill without a second thought because they challenge your authority?"

The only response I have to her is an arched eyebrow.

Miranda whips the knives out of her shoulder plate and launches them at me. I simply let them hit my chest, resounding with a solid thump. Thankfully they miss the fabric of my shirt, only going between my breasts.

"Do you enjoy doing that?" I snap. "Do you get some sick satisfaction from trying to ruin all of my clothing?"

A smug expression crosses Miranda's features.

"Yes, actually," she replies. "I do. It means that's one less expensive article of clothing you wear and the more you have to waste your endless pools of money."

I narrow my eyes, feeling a wolfish grin spread across my lips.

"Miss Lawson, I am now inclined to think, after you so passionately kissed me, that you're sincerely trying your best to get me naked. If you wanted that in the first place, you have but to ask. Not that I'm inclined to give that to you just yet." Though my body is screaming yes, logical thought process is calmly telling me no. I'm unclear on which course of action to follow so I simply do nothing.

Miranda's face begins to match the tapestry in my building.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Aria," she says all too quickly. "I don't even know how you got that idea in your head."

I roll my eyes. "Give me a break. I'm not stupid, Miranda. And I certainly know how to read expressions. The way your face looks right now shouts that you're guilty of my charges." I laugh a bit. "The great assassin sent by the White Star ends up wanting to have sex with her intended target. I'm sure that's unheard of."

A sudden knock on the door makes me rip my eyes away from Miranda's aesthetically appealing features.

"Who is it?" I practically bark.

"Nyreen. You told me that you wanted to see me this afternoon, before the sun sets."

Quietly I mutter, "You can go now, if you're itching to." I open up the door with a flick of my wrist.

Nyreen, previously standing behind the door, now walks in. She's clothed in her traditional blacksmith's apron and clothing. She has a dark blue, long sleeve shirt underneath her apron, the sleeves rolled up like usual. Her ebony and red-streaked hair was down in her face. I happen to notice from the corner of my eyes that Miranda is still sitting in her chair.

And so does Nyreen.

"So," Nyreen says, her voice not as warm and welcoming as usual. It's a bit more metallic this time, a trait that's uniquely hers. "This is the notorious Miranda Lawson. I finally get to meet the woman who haunts your thoughts, Aria? Oh, what a treat."

If I didn't think that I could use her, I would've killed her as she makes this comment.

Miranda looks at me now, with unbridled curiosity in her icy eyes. Eyes that, like Nyreen said, haunt most of my thoughts. As much as I hate to admit that.

As she starts to say something, I cut her off, telling her, "She doesn't know what she's saying. Stay here. Or go, it's your choice." I get off of the desk and walk toward Nyreen. When I near Miranda, I mutter in her ear, "Though I think we'd both be better off if you stayed."

I grab Nyreen by the arm and steer her out of the area and into the main room.

"What the fuck, Nyreen?" I snarl. "Why did you blurt that out? She does not need to know that I think about her. She's a fucking assassin and I am only her target. It doesn't matter if I think about her or not, or even if she kissed me—"

"She what?" Nyreen exclaims.

I quickly clamp my hand over her mouth.

"Not so loud!" I hiss. I slowly remove my hand. "Yes, she kissed me." I fold my arms across my chest. "She barged into my office when Bray and Grizz were with me. And she kissed me. Very passionately, I must say."

"I don't mean to sound like a giddy child eager for the latest bit of gossip, but… Do tell?"

"Gods, are you fucking kidding me? No, I will not give you any details!" I shake my head in disbelief. "For fuck's sake. I swear that you secretly are a child inside a grown woman's body."

Nyreen plops herself down on the plush, velvet couch.

"I'll be honest, Nyreen," I mutter. "And you know how seldom I am. I don't know what to do right now. Not regarding her."

"How about, for once, you decide to do what the large part of your mind is telling you? Because obviously this woman plagues your mind quite often."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means stop being so rude and apathetic toward her. I know that's extremely unordinary for you, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try."

I glare at Nyreen, feeling my eyes burn.

"Okay, okay! You don't have to—"

"I won't," I interrupt her.

"Do anything I tell you," she continues. "Even if she's tried to kill you, numerous times. I'm just saying that being cold to everyone gets you nowhere."

"I seem to be leading the strongest mercenary gang in the Land of Light and the Fringe."

"That's not what I mean," Nyreen says, exasperated. "Just fucking try with her. I see how you act around her."

I lower my voice threateningly and ask, "And how would that be?"

"I'm not going to tell you," she replies. "Just like you're not going to use my advice."

"Oh, get the hell out of my sight before I murder you."

"Why should I? We have work to take care of, such as organizing our new gang, the one you have me in charge of. Remember? Omega? We need to get that established before they act like chickens with their heads removed."

"Okay, fine." I rub my eyes. "First thing we need to do is somehow speak to the squad leaders and tell them the deal. And if they do not agree with my decision, kill them and replace them with someone who is more willing to listen to you and me. And yes, I'm putting you in charge of this entire operation. You are probably the only person I know that can get this done as cleanly and, dare I say it, ethically as possible."

"What should I do after I get the squad leaders to agree with me?" Nyreen asks.

"Have them burn off their previous insignias from their gangs and replace it with mine." I point at the symbol on the cloth around my waist.

"Is that all?"

"It's all that needs to be done right now. So go and do it."

Nyreen leaves shortly after that.

Now to deal with the gorgeous woman and assassin in my office. The one who plagues my thoughts. It's time to see how her mind works and see if we happen to share the same issues.

And also see how and why she needs my help.

**AN: Questions, comments, concerns, and/or tips or requests? All are greatly appreciated though not required!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**AN: I apologize beforehand that this chapter is somewhat uneventful. I lost my groove because of some personal crap going on. **

Walking back into the den of my apartment in Inferno, I see that Miranda Lawson is indeed still waiting patiently in the chair I left her in. Her position is the same as when I left her. She is leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. Her head lies against the back of the chair and her eyes are closed. I quietly stalk over to where Miranda is and lean down to where my mouth is even with her ear.

"I know you didn't fall asleep on me," I murmur, intentionally making my voice silkier than normal.

Miranda's body subtly jerks and her eyes snap open. Her blue eyes are a stormy blue instead of their typical icy hue.

"Don't do that!" Miranda exclaims, her voice cracking slightly.

I chuckle as I wander behind my desk and take my seat.

"What, did I interrupt a good dream?" I ask innocently.

Miranda narrows her eyes, which have returned to their original color. "Why did you want me to stay? How about you answer that? Because your behavior just now, by dragging that woman out of here, makes me very suspicious."

"What makes you think I'll give you an answer?" I retort.

"Look, you asked me to stay here, saying that we'll both be better off if I did. I didn't have to—"

"Yet you did," I interrupt. "You stayed. Plan on trying to kill me again, even after you just attacked my face with yours?"

"Do you realize we're arguing as though we're married?" Miranda runs a hand through her coffee brown hair. An action I sluggishly think that I want to do for her. I banish that wretched thought from my head.

"No we aren't," I snap, glaring at her.

Miranda just arches a thin eyebrow.

A sharp, stabbing pain pierces my left arm. I look down to see dark red fluid flowing from a gash in the skin. Realization sinks in and I rush to the bay window. I look out to see a drunken fool tossing stones at the colossal wolf fountain.

Thane.

"Fuck me hard," I seethe.

Without a second thought, I wrap myself up in a thick aura of dark, pulsing energy and prepare to jump out of the window. The muscles in my legs coil and spring as I launch myself out of the building. The glass shatters into thousands of sparkling fragments that glitter in the afternoon sunlight.

The impact with the ground four stories below my window jars me to the bone. The pavement crunches beneath my weight and a web of cracks spread out from where I land. Without a moment more of hesitation, I sprint over to the drunken fool that's vandalizing the only thing that can harm me. When I near him, I reach out for the back of his thick neck and pull it into a vice grip. He begins to flail and shout for help. Using my forward momentum, I slam him into the ground with all of the force of Darkness fueling me. The man, wearing a tattered, tan tunic and trousers, lands face first into the cobblestone surface of the plaza. Small cracks fan out from his head. I flip the bastard over and begin to throw blow after Darkness-powered blow at his face, not stopping until it's a broken, bloody mess. Almost every bone in his face is cracked and his face is already swelling and bruising. Somehow, the man is still breathing. I need to remedy that. I grip his bulging throat again and drag him from the ground, his feet dangling a span from the earth. I summon up more energy and prepare to fling him clear across the plaza.

Before I can, I spot a figure running at me. They seem to have come out of Inferno. I make out the flowing, deep brown tresses and white, leather armor. Miranda.

"Aria!" Miranda cries. "Stop it! Put that man down!"

I squeeze his neck tighter. His grubby paws feebly attempt to peel my hand away.

"Or what, Miranda?" I bellow back at her. "What will you do, kill me?"

By now, she's within three feet of me.

"If you murder that man, then I will." Her expression is gravely solemn.

"We've been over this already," I sneer at her. "You can't kill me and you never will."

Miranda's eyebrows come together in an expression of determination and a hint of sadness.

"I know now," she says quietly. "That statue right there is your only weakness. If I pierce the area where its heart should be, then your heart will be pierced as well. As much as I want to kill you, I can't because as of now, you're the only one that can help me. But if you kill this man, I'll be forced to do the same to you, Aria." She places her hand on the arm that holds the drunken bastard. An intense shock runs through me as our skin meets.

"When the fuck did you become so soft?" I ask harshly.

"Since I received word that my father is trying to kill my sister." Her steady gaze is wrought with grief.

"Why should I care about your sister?"

"If you still want me and my loyalty because of the skills I own, then you'll help me. This is the only thing I ask for. It's why I came to you earlier today. Kissing you just happened to be an unintended occurrence."

I feel Darkness flare in my eyes and blacken my vision as I contemplate what to do. This woman would still be an excellent asset to my forces. She's a well-trained assassin, good enough to infiltrate not only my building but my apartment. She seems to have an endless supply of weapons and she has a strong sense of determination, along with morals. I also enjoy looking at her. Eye candy, as some people would say. But she knows how to kill me. Though that would be yet another reason to keep her close. I do not need her spreading that secret. She is the only person besides Thane and myself that knows. I need to keep it that way.

"Fine." I toss the unconscious body in my hand onto the pavement, none too gently. "I'll help you. But give me a minute. I need to take care of something."

I turn and face the immense statue of Thane Krios, the animalistic part of myself. I quickly spot the gash in the stone on his leg and soundlessly mutter a spell to fix it. The stone glows midnight blue for a moment, then returns to normal. I say another spell for enhanced strength and resilience. I acutely feel the drain on my energy as I use the incantations. I face Miranda once more and feel my eyebrows knit together in a stern expression. One thing that's always annoyed me is that she and I are the same height.

"I'll let you know now that I won't be an easy companion to help you and your sister," I tell the woman.

"That's fine," Miranda responds. I would never admit it to a soul, but I will never get tired of hearing her Anadian accent and how it warps certain sounds. "You'll learn I'm not the easiest person to get along with."

"I already know that from the numerous times you've tried to kill me. Before we go, however, I need to alert Bray with what's going on."

"No, you can't do that," Miranda says quickly. "No one can know that we're going to save my sister."

"Give it a rest. I'm not telling him where we're going or what we're doing. I'll only say that I'll be gone for a while. Any idea on exactly how long?"

"Anywhere from a week to half a year."

"Fuck, that sure is accurate."

"You can quit with the sarcasm, Aria. I'm not in the mood."

"You were sure in the mood for something earlier."

That comment earns me a solid punch in my right arm.

"Let's just find Bray, yeah?"

After meeting up with Bray, who looked like he'd just gotten out of bed with yet another man, and telling him that I'll be gone for an indefinite amount of time, Miranda and I head up to my apartment so I can grab a few articles of clothing, such as a heavy cloak and two spare changes of clothes. I try to get plain colors, which are brown, black, and a light tan. I find a burlap bag that has two straps to fit on my shoulders. I stuff the clothing I've picked out into the bag and head out of my room. I impatiently rush down to my favorite room in the Fringe, the Armory.

I whip open the large double doors and am pleasantly assaulted with the smell of metal.

"Holy hell," Miranda says from behind me.

"This is one big reason why you don't fuck with someone like me," I tell her. "You see those tables over there?" I point to a collection of three tables on the far side of the room. "Those are reserved for torturing people who won't give me answers."

I hear her swallow quietly.

I smirk, then say, "They're also for the ones that enjoy things being a bit kinkier than usual."

I walk over to one of the wooden mannequins that holds a bulky set of metal and leather armor. The ebony metal pauldrons are etched with ornate designs, swirling lines filled with gold and crimson. The matching vambraces and greaves are hammered out of the same pitch black metal and have a smaller version of the golden and blood red engravings. The chest guard that fits over the entire torso is the only part that looks remotely feminine. It's fashioned to fit over a woman's breasts, specifically mine. A thick layer of hardened leather is worn under that, and the final layer is a worn down layer of softened leather. I carefully remove the metal pieces, setting them down onto the stone table that stands next to the mannequin. I unclip the various buckles on the outer layer of leather and set it atop the pauldrons and other metal pieces. I remove my own clothing and replace it with the innermost leather coating. As I shrug on the tunic and pants, I enjoy the feel of its suppleness. The thicker layer comes on next. Stepping into the greaves and slipping the vambraces on my forearms, I tighten the straps on both. I pick up the surprisingly light chest piece and fit it onto my torso with care.

"If you don't mind, Miranda" I say, my voice carrying across the vast room. "I require some help with this."

When I see what she's doing, I shake my head. She's inspecting the tables I pointed our earlier.

"Miranda!" I shout. She jumps, startled. "Get over here and help me with this, dammit!"

The woman rolls her eyes but comes over to me nonetheless. I lift my arms and she tightens the thin straps on the sides of my torso.

"Not too tight," I warn, just as Miranda yanks a strap, making it difficult for me to breathe.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says, faked innocence in her smooth voice. "Does that hurt?"

I flash my eyes at her. "What do you think, you shit? Now will you loosen that up?"

Miranda grudgingly slackens the tension in the leather cords.

I shrug my shoulders, letting the metal plating settle more comfortably onto my body. I slip on the pauldrons, a long, segmented piece of ebony that covers my entire left arm, shoulders, and the upper part of my right arm. The edges are etched in gold and crimson, matching the rest of the armor. I walk to another section of the Armory, one that holds personalized swords, pistols, knives, shields, and bows, along with their sheathes. I pick up a matching pair of swords. The blades are solid black and slightly curved with a wicked edge near the tip. The cross guards bow outward around the leather-wrapped hilt. I grab some straps off of the table and wrap them around my waist. I shove the swords in between the straps and armor. I pick up a belt with two pistol holsters and buckle it around my waist. I push a pair of golden captain's pistols in the holsters. Another belt goes diagonally across my chest. Grabbing another set of pistols, I fit them in the open holes. I retrieve a pouch of small musket balls, the ammunition. I tie the extra string to the bands around my waist.

"Get everything you think you'll need," I tell Miranda. "It doesn't matter how much you take. I can always get more weapons made."

As Miranda picks up various items, she asks, "Just how much money are you in charge of?"

"More than your employer's dreams can imagine," I say apathetically.

Miranda gives a low whistle. "That's quite a lot."

"You really have no idea."

A silence settles over the Armory. Aside from the occasional clink of steel, the only sounds are our heartbeats and breathing.

After a few minutes, Miranda announces that she's finished.

"All right," I say. "Let's go."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**AN: I decided to have an author I respect very much write this chapter. I hope you kiddos like it.**

When she'd gone to the infamous Aria T'Loak to ask for her help – which some people might call an extremely idiotic idea as the Queen herself was at first her assassination target – it'd never occurred to her that the simple trip would take that long. Yes, Illium, one of the biggest and most peaceful cities she knew was placed quite far from Varris. Yes, they were travelling on foot as she'd decided that horses would drag too much attention. And yes, they had to stop every night, renting rooms in small taverns to rest and be sure that they would be able to fight at every single moment. She really didn't want to be attacked while exhausted; her sister was in danger after all, she had to be focused. Yet not for a single moment had she thought that of all people, Aria T'Loak would be complaining that much about almost everything. The bed hadn't been comfortable, the food had been distasteful, the weather had been awful, it would have been faster if they'd taken horses, and her pistols were heavy. Miranda had tried, really tried to keep calm, ignore those complaints and simply say nothing, instead think about her sister. For four days it had worked. But on the fifth, her patience suddenly grew too thin.

"Could you shut up at least for a moment?!" she snapped at Aria, turning to face her so suddenly that the woman didn't stop in time and bumped into her. She managed to keep her balance and her reflexes kicked in, saving Aria from landing on the hard ground. The second she was sure the woman wouldn't fall over, her hands left her arms and she took a step back. She couldn't stand too close to that damn woman. It was too difficult.

Aria straightened her coat and shook off an invisible speck from her sleeve before looking at Miranda and smirking. "So you do remember how to speak. Good to know. Now, are you finally willing to answer my question from the first day of our small trip?" Aria asked, her voice almost dripping with venom hidden behind a fake of innocence.

"I do not remember any question," Miranda said quickly and turned around. She looked around, trying to assess the distance from the nearest city. The bad weather had stopped them around midday, making it almost impossible to travel. As soon as the storm had passed, they were back on track, hoping that they would reach the town before the twilight.

"I believe I've already told you how I hate to repeat myself."

She heard Aria speak but didn't bother to even glance at her companion. Instead she focused on the nearest hill, wondering how long it would take them to get there. She was interrupted by a hand that clenched around her arm tightly, almost causing pain.

"Are you deaf or stupid?" Aria hissed right into her ear. Miranda felt a shiver running down her spine. She closed her eyes and swallowed, trying desperately to break free from this iron grip. Being in such close proximity to Aria made her body react in odd ways. She couldn't really explain it, but the woman's very existing was even more than intoxicating. All it took was a closeness between them and Miranda felt herself blushing slightly. She lowered her head so her hair would hide her face and stubbornly tried to free herself. Quickly her other arm was trapped and she was pulled back against Aria. "Looks like both," the woman snarled, clenching her fingers tightly.

"Let go of me," Miranda growled almost desperately.

The more she struggled, the tighter Aria's grip became. She ended up with her arms pulled back even more, forcing her to press her body against Aria's chest. The hot breath she felt on her neck was driving her crazy. She couldn't stop thinking about that kiss from five days earlier. All this time her very being urged her to do it again, to capture Aria's lips with her own, to taste that forbidden fruit that seemed addictive, to tangle her fingers into the dark hair, pulling her closer, deepening the k...

"If you don't answer my question immediately I'm gonna tie you to the nearest tree and force you to tell me everything I want."

Her eyes shot open and she froze. Slowly gulping, she glanced at the nearest tree and immediately her mind was assaulted by tons of images, all including the tree, the rope holding her wrists and Aria's hands and lips all over her body. She shuddered, forcing herself to take a deep breath and calm down, to get rid of those images. The pain in her crushed muscles brought her back to reality. Just in time, as Aria's patience clearly grew thin and she tried to pull Miranda towards the tree.

"It's revenge. He wanted to create a dynasty. My father I mean," she whispered in a hurry, fighting Aria as strongly as she was able to. She wouldn't let herself be imprisoned; it would become impossible to resist the other woman then. "He never wanted to have a daughter, it was all about business for him. He was forcing me into doing things I never wanted to do, held me locked in his palace like a bird in a golden cage," she was saying, her voice low, words leaving her lips hurriedly, her eyes never leaving the tree. "I ran away. He... managed to get another daughter, replace me. I couldn't let him do the same to her. I saved her and hid her in a safe place. Now he threatens to kill her to get his vengeance."

Silence surrounded them as soon as her last word was consumed by the air. She didn't dare to move. At some point Aria stopped dragging her towards the tree and simply listened to her words. Yet it didn't mean she wouldn't decide that it wasn't enough. And the longer the silence lasted, the faster her heart was beating, the harder the blood was throbbing in her veins, the more shallow her breath became. She couldn't move, she couldn't think, she could only see the images Aria unintentionally had placed in her head when she'd first mentioned those damn tables.

"You're an idiot," Aria snorted after a long moment. "If your father wanted to have a daughter so he could create a dynasty, why would he kill that daughter? He's only trying to lure you into coming to rescue your sister which would end up in you walking straight into a trap. I am utterly shocked you fell for that."

Feeling an enormous wave of relief Miranda slightly lowered her head again, her hair covering her face, hiding the smirk. If Aria still wanted to talk, the risk of being tied to a bloody tree became much smaller and she could relax a bit. She didn't really want to reveal all her secrets, but as long as she was safe, she could answer a few questions.

"I didn't. I knew from the very beginning that it's a trap."

"And yet you decided to go there. Why?" Maybe it was only her imagination but she could swear that she heard curiosity in Aria's voice.

"They want to play a game with me? So be it. They expect me to show up sooner or later. But they'd never think that I would bring someone with me."

Her words were followed by a moment of silence broken later by a heavy sigh. She could almost sense Aria shaking her head. Also, she couldn't not notice that the grip loosened a lot yet she stopped trying to break free. She didn't want to risk pissing Aria off again.

"I knew there's a catch. And what's your plan? Making them believe that they tricked you by getting yourself caught and then hoping that I would rush to save you?"

"More or less."

"And why do you think I would help you after all those attempts to kill me? Why are you so sure that I won't simply let them finish their job?"

"Because you agreed to do it. Also, you want to help me. You are curious to see what would come next, what I would do next. Would I keep trying to get your attention after you helped me save my sister? Or would I leave you in peace? You want to know why I kissed you, if it was just a moment of weakness or if I desire you as much as you lust after me. And you are aware that none of those questions would ever be answered if you leave me to death."

The hands released her arms slowly, almost absentmindedly. She could sense Aria taking a careful step back and realized that what she just said hoping to end this ridiculous interrogation was all true. If Aria's mind was indeed hunted by such questions... Well, it might have meant that she wasn't the only one who had trouble with sleeping recently because her mind was filled with the annoying images of the other woman. Images that had made her wake up in the middle of the night feeling hot wetness between her thighs, like it'd happened the day before; she'd spent half of the night simply staring at the wall separating their rooms, stubbornly trying to ignore her own body and force it to go back to sleep.

Unsettled by the stretching silence, Miranda slowly turned around and immediately met Aria's gaze. The woman was standing a few steps behind her, her arms crossed over her chest, simply looking, examining. Her face showed absolutely nothing, yet there was a gleam in her eyes. A gleam that was difficult to describe. It didn't tell Miranda anything about what Aria might have been thinking nor what she must have felt. It was rather disturbing. She felt like an animal in a cage, trapped, being observed in silence. She took a step back. Aria tilted her head. Miranda could literally feel the goose bumps creeping up her arms. She fought the need to rub her own skin.

Clearing her throat she turned again and looked back at the hill. "We won't make it before sundown. The town is too far, we'll have to spend the night in the woods," she said quietly, glad that at least her voice sounded as strong as always. Aria said nothing, so she risked a glance at the woman who nodded shortly. Miranda sighed, preparing herself to spend the next few hours in heavy silence. It almost made her miss all those earlier complaints.

As she'd expected, they only managed to reach the hill before the darkness surrounded them. The wolves howling echoed from almost every direction. She wanted to stay in the forest, hidden between the trees but something inside her told her that it wasn't a good idea. She always trusted her instincts and they led her towards a small cave at the bottom of the hill. As soon as they both got in and lit a bonfire, it started raining again. And there she was now, sitting at the entrance of the cave, partially covered with the branches she found nearby, listening to the sound of drops hitting the ground. Behind her Aria stayed by the fire, still silent. It was unnerving and disturbing. And honestly, she would be rather glad if the other woman started complaining again, no matter what about. Because that silence let her thoughts wander and they rushed towards the Pirate Queen more often that she would like them to. She had already lost control over herself once and it'd made everything much worse. She must have been blind, deaf and stupid to not notice how Aria's body had reacted to her kiss. The woman must have felt the same enormous wave of heat that had flooded over Miranda's body. The softness and the taste of Aria's lips hunted her dreams. Every time the Queen was close she wanted to do it again. It took all her strength to not grab her shirt and make all the space between them vanish.

She shook her head violently and got up only to leave the cave after a moment's thought. It took her about half an hour of wandering around the forest before the rain managed to cool her down. It was a cold night and by the time she was back, her whole body was shivering. Aria was leaning against the furthest wall of the cave, sitting as comfortably as it was possible as if she trusted that wherever Miranda went, she would finally come back. And she was right. Yet Miranda could swear that she saw a momentary relief on the Queen's face before her expression turned into a stony one again. Without a word she stripped off her armour and sat near the fire, hoping her tunic and pants would dry soon.

And so they sat in the cave in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by silence, both deep in their thoughts, trying to ignore the other's presence. It didn't work well. Miranda kept glancing at Aria from time to time, wondering if the closed eyes and steady breath meant that she'd fallen asleep. A smirk slowly crept on her face. After all, there was a way to find out...

Aria's eyes snapped open and she gasped the moment Miranda's knife dug into her arm. The brunette simply tilted her head and turned another dagger over in her hand as the Pirate Queen removed the blade with a frown and glared at Miranda.

"Care to explain what the fuck you're doing?"

"Practicing," Miranda answered calmly, not bothered at all by the angry hiss. She smirked when her next knife hit Aria right between the collarbones. "Score." It was still quite difficult to believe but she somehow learned that no matter where she aimed, there was no way to harm the woman that way. But that didn't change the fact that observing how the wound healed itself and seeing the frown and angry glares Aria shot her way was quite enjoyable.

"I'm gonna practice breaking your neck if you don't stop right now."

"You are not going to do that."

In the blink of an eye Aria was right in front of her, leaning low, their faces only inches apart. Miranda felt a very familiar wave of heat flooding her body, forcing her to hold her breath. Her eyes were captured by Aria's and she just couldn't look away even though the look the Queen gave her was anything but a kind one. She gulped as the woman leaned even lower, forcing her to pull back until she was stopped by her own backpack.

"Why are you so sure?" Aria whispered, her hot breath caressing Miranda's lips. Ice blue eyes fell to Aria's lips as she absentmindedly licked her own. A smirk appeared on the woman's face as she slowly pulled back. "That's what I thought."

It was too much. The proximity was driving her crazy. It was already difficult to control herself after all that had happened, but now, having Aria that close, almost on top of her, brought back all those images created by her mind since the mention of the tables. Her self-control broke into tiny pieces and her fingers clenched around Aria's tunic. Miranda pulled her back and their lips crushed with force; she had to use all the remaining strength to not moan in pleasure. The taste was intoxicating, she couldn't get enough. A part of her noticed Aria's hesitation, yet it vanished into thin air the moment Miranda's tongue brushed against her lips.

If anyone asked her later about it, she couldn't really answer how it all happened. In one moment she was clenching to Aria, tasting her lips as if they were water and she was in the middle of the desert dying of thirst, and the next she was pinned to the hard ground with the Pirate Queen on top of her, claiming her lips as her belonging. She could feel the hands on her sides, discovering every curve while her own fingers dove into Aria's dark hair, forming fists, holding her there like her life depended on it.

And suddenly it was all over as Aria pulled back, gasping for air. They were both panting, their breaths mixing in the thin space between them, blood pounding in both their heads. Miranda didn't move, her eyes closed as she lay there enjoying the feeling of Aria's body against hers, pressing her into the ground, hands on her hips. She could feel her head resting on her own shoulder, the hot breath caressing the skin on her neck. It sent a shiver down her spine. She slowly, carefully, untangled her fingers from Aria's hair only to move them to the woman's back, scratching it slowly through the layer of a fabric. She could swear she heard a quiet purr somewhere near her ear.

And just like that Aria pulled back and took a deep breath before returning to her previous spot, leaving Miranda right where she was, lying on the ground, immediately missing the closeness. Her hands fell to her sides as she sighed heavily and after a moment turned to the side, not willing to face the woman now. Pressing her thighs together, all she could do was hope that somehow she would survive this trip both physically and mentally.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

To be truthful, I really enjoyed pissing Miranda Lawson off those first few days we were travelling. However, I did not enjoy when she began to acquire an attitude toward me and my general existence. I wanted so badly to say that without me, or someone as strong and as experienced in combat as me, this little mission of hers would never be possible. I was so tempted to say something cruel and along those lines, but I couldn't bring myself to.

Some part of me is getting too soft.

I suppose I need to work on that at some point soon.

But not if my travel companion keeps insisting on passionately attacking my lips with her own.

Then again, I don't think I should be so willing to oblige her, either. But who am I to deny a woman what she craves? Granted, she is a very attractive woman. Very attractive and aesthetically appealing.

I shake my head, dispelling the thoughts.

"We've been on this road for nearly three months, Miranda," I snap, my typically endless patience wearing thin. "When in the hell are we going to get to Illium?"

"We'll be there within the week." Her Anadian voice is absolutely emotionless. If I didn't know better, I would assume that this woman is a fake Miranda, not the one I've had as my constant companion.

"About fucking time."

The days passed by relatively quickly. We encountered no obstacles that we couldn't handle. The worst we had were bandits that tried stealing our supplies. Needless to say, they didn't succeed and I made absolutely sure of that. The most they would've gotten away with would have been their lives. If I hadn't taken them.

"I already have a pair of rooms arranged for us near the edge of the city," Miranda spoke up. "It's one of the most inconspicuous areas in Illium. The only issue we should have would be your notorious features."

"It isn't my fault that I'm so attractive," I tell her. "Nor is it my fault that I could be considered a goddess." I look at Miranda, who continues walking down the well-traveled road. There's still the sway in the woman's hips but she is obviously worn down. I notice a small part of me is concerned about her wellbeing. A part that I vehemently ignore.

A few hours later, as the sun is setting, we reach the city of Illium. Another beautiful city, much like the Citadel or Varris, but without so much political unrest. As I gaze at the vastly different architecture, I feel mild shock at how the engineers managed to create buildings all taller than twenty stories. Each building looked exactly like a gothic church, with soaring towers and vertically stretched windows. Every window was made from stained glass with a rainbow of hues. The panes depict various scenes from the Land of Light's history. From this far, I'm unable to see what panes show what, but I have a sinking suspicion that at least one frame has my face somewhere in it. The buildings that weren't scraping the sky were much shorter, ranging from just one floor to five floors. These smaller buildings are made completely from dark wood. The only way for me to distinguish these structures apart is the signs posted out in front of them. There aren't as many bars and taverns here as there are in Varris. I frown as I realize I'm somewhat out of my element. Insecurity begins to rise inside of me as I consider how out of place a Pirate Queen is in this area.

This is absurd. I'm the Empress of the City of the Wicked. This is absolute bullshit. I will not be cowed by these feelings inside me.

I approach the situation of intimacy with Miranda in much the same way.

"So where exactly is the room we're staying in?" I ask, after we wander through some of the streets on the outskirts of Illium.

"A small hotel named Nos Astra," Miranda replies after a time. The woman had retrieved a small, leather bound book from her pack to look at a piece of old paper. Probably trying to find the address so we don't get lost. "It should be just around the next corner."

"Isn't that something?" I mutter under my breath.

"What was that?" Miranda asks, looking over her slender, leather-clad shoulder at me. One of her eyebrows is quirked.

I decide to have a little fun.

"Nothing, _dear_," I tell her, a sickly sweet smile on my face.

The brunette quickly tears her glacier blue eyes away from mine and faces forward once more. A smug smile spreads across my lips.

Pushing through the throng of people, we reach our destination quickly. Nos Astra is one of the taller wooden buildings, standing roughly the same height as Inferno. However, that is where the similarity ends, rather abruptly I might add. The building itself is bland; the only adornments being the wooden sign with _Nos Astra _painted in blue with an outline of green and the deep blue wooden door.

She expects me to stay in something this small? This woman is out of her fucking mind. I have more wealth than this entire city thrown together and I'm forced to stay in some run down place on the outskirts of a merchant city. Then again, I don't necessarily have to stay here. I could abandon Miranda to her hopeless cause of shielding her sister from their jackass of a father.

But why would I do that? Miranda obviously cares enough about her sister do try and save her from their overpowering father. I've been in that situation before. I know what it feels like to have a controlling parent that refuses to loosen their grip on you. Miranda is a good woman. She doesn't deserve to do this alone. And, as much as it pains me to admit, I've grown somewhat fond of the brunette with the exotic accent. That small part of me that I think is getting too fluffy wants to remain her by her side, even if it's just to finish up the business we have here. As foreign and out of character as it may sound for me, I decide to go with that small part, just this once.

Miranda leads the way as we walk into Nos Astra. Inside, it is cleaner than my own apartment, which is something that is really hard to accomplish. The black tile floors of the long hallway I'm greeted with gleam in the warm lamplights hanging from support columns. A short man with mud brown hair and eyes stands behind a counter, looking quite bored. He looks like he's examining a year old copy of some art book. Probably naked women sprawled in various poses. I've half a mind in joining him.

Miranda walks over to him and quickly says something in a language I don't quite understand. I decide to occupy myself with looking at the décor, which isn't much. A few paintings plastered in bland frames decorate the walls. Some depict a mountain range, others something I can't even begin to describe. The walls themselves are the same color as the walls outside, a deep brown that has absolutely no life to it.

"I have our room," Miranda says from behind me. If she was expecting me to jump, she should be sorely disappointed and ashamed for even trying.

"Fantastic. Now let's go and get situated for the night."

We wander down the main hall, which is decorated exactly the same as the foyer we were just in with the concierge. There are at least fifty doors, all black, on either side of the hallway. The only way for them to be distinguished from each other is the silver plate with numbers scrawled on them. At the end of the hall is a small, spiral staircase carved from the same material as the tiles on the floor. We take the stairs up to the third floor, which looks identical to the first and second floor. They should have let me design this place. I could've given it so much character. Maybe I should rule this city instead of Varris, and give this place some life. The entire place needs some, that's for damn sure.

No, never mind that. I could never leave the city I've called home for over three hundred years. But I could add it to my empire…

"Here we are," Miranda announces. "Room 304."

The brunette unlocks the door with the key she holds and she steps inside, me right on her heels. I catch a whiff of her scent, a pleasant mixture of roses and vanilla that temporarily brings memories of us passionately kissing in that cave all that time ago. My body begins to grow hot in response to that course of thought and I ignore it, stuffing the recollection back into the far corner of my mind. I'll deal with that later.

Inside is a room as bland and tasteless as the hallway it connects to. It's an open floor design, aside from a secluded room which I assume is for personal needs. There is a bed located near the window that looks out onto the crowded street below. A small kitchen is situated to the right of the doorway, with tile floors and a stone chest filled with ice. The counters are made from stone and black granite. A wooden stove is nestled in between an open space between the counters. So far, it actually isn't as bland as I thought. A leather couch is located in front of the stone fireplace, which is dark. A stack of wood rests near it, just waiting to be thrown into the pit.

"I'll sleep on the bed," I announce as I toss the cloth sack I've been carrying over my shoulder for two months down. I kick off my boots and lay down on it, slightly disappointed that it isn't my own mattress back home.

"That's extremely unfair, Aria," Miranda protests, her thin brows knitting together in irritation.

"Would you like to join me?" I ask, raising my own eyebrows. I pat the blue quilt next to me. "There's plenty of room."

Miranda simply ignores me and lights the fireplace by striking one of her knives against a small rock she found lying near the fire pit. When she gets the fire going, she walks past the bed and draws the cloth curtains closed, blocking out the city lights.

As the warmth from the fire begins to seep into the room, I feel my eyelids drift shut. However, I do not go to sleep. I don't even entertain the thought until there isn't any more rustling going on from Miranda.

Despite being somewhat exhausted from the trip, my mind seems to be wide awake. Wide awake and eager to return to that incident that occurred in the cave.

I choose to entertain those thoughts once I am sure that Miranda is asleep.

I think about how a very large part of me gets a thrill at being anywhere near the feisty brunette. The very fibers of my body grow warm and tingle whenever we touch, however infrequent that is. I admit to myself that I crave her presence, even if we end up bickering. I think that I would prefer that than nothing at all. I have indeed grown fond of Miranda Lawson, which is rather alien for me. Not in over six hundred years have I felt this way about anyone. The last person I cared about died in a fiery eruption in Terminus, a country neighboring the Land of Light. It's an extremely hostile environment, volcanoes constantly erupting, the sky always tinged red and cloudy with ash. The very ground is unstable from all the tremors that the volcanic eruptions cause. That was a very dark time for me, a time where I had let love and similar emotions cloud my thinking and throw a decent person's life down a hole in the earth, literally. I had sworn to myself that never again would I let myself fall in love. It's truly a pointless emotion and feeling. I see no reason that it exists, aside from hurting people when it is unrequited.

It has been centuries since I've felt the way I do now, but I immediately recognized the signs of caring about someone in the way that I did so long ago. I don't try to fool myself into thinking the signs are something else. I'm not stupid and will not act like all of those other headstrong women who think they won't fall in love again.

I snap my eyes open, staring at the wooden ceiling above me. I just accepted that I am falling for Miranda Lawson. Utterly ridiculous, yet the truth. I'm fucked. Not literally, to my dismay.

I roll over and gaze at the sleeping woman. Her strong features are much more peaceful than they are during the day. Every muscle in her face is relaxed, making her look much younger than she really is. Since I'm being brutally honest with myself, I admit that she has an ethereal beauty about her, something Jona Sederis, my old lover who died, could never compare to. The way her dark hair complements her pale complexion seems like some master artist conjured her straight from his painting. Her figure is certainly nothing she should be ashamed of. She is curvaceous, but not to a sickening degree. In the cloth shirt and plain shorts, there is little left to my imagination. I remember feeling her body flush against mine, how we seemed to fit perfectly together. It is a sensation I am absolutely willing to feel again.

Before I know what I'm doing, I find myself standing next to where Miranda is lying on the couch, her head and feet propped up on the arms. I know it has to be uncomfortable for her to simply lie there. Her neck will definitely be aching in the morning.

I decide to scoop her up in my arms, bridal style, and carry her to the bed. Her body is surprisingly heavy, even without her armor. I'm astonished at how she manages to sneak around places with that much weight. She certainly doesn't show it anywhere on her body. I gently set her down on the side closest to the window. I tuck her into the covers, once again marveling at how I just tucked a woman, who's tried on numerous occasions to kill me, in bed. I shake my head at the realization but do not protest it. If she were awake, that would be a completely different situation.

I lay down on the opposite side of the bed, laying on top of the quilt that covers the mattress. I keep my distance from Miranda's sleep prone form as my eyes drift shut once more, this time with the promise of sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

When I wake up in the morning, I hear a rattling of iron against steel. I sluggishly open my eyes to see Miranda, dressed in her signature black leather armor, cooking something that smelled like meat and potatoes. My eyes naturally drift to her shapely hips and legs, which look quite sexy even in the armor. The brunette must feel my eyes on her because she turns around and raises an eyebrow at me. I lazily lift my gaze to meet hers, knowing full well that the color of my eyes has darkened to a midnight blue due to mild lust.

Miranda holds my gaze evenly as she says, "About time you woke up. I've been slaving away making us both breakfast while you just laid there and drooled your brain out on the pillow."

"You can shut your mouth at any time, you know," I tell her. My voice is rough and low from sleep, something most people find attractive. It usually disrupts their statements and thoughts. On Miranda, I see that it doesn't affect her at all, aside from a slight movement from her throat. Swallowing, it looks like.

"Just get your arse out of bed before I start practicing my knife throwing at you," Miranda says as she rolls her eyes. I notice how her own voice is just a touch shakier than it was a moment ago.

"Stop ordering me around like a servant," I snap. I roll over in the bed and face the closed window, shutting my eyes once more.

A solid, sharp object thumps into my back and my eyes jerk open once more. Another one quickly follows it, landing near the upper part of my spine. A third blade pierces just under my right shoulder blade.

"You little fucker," I seethe through my teeth. I rise from the bed, summoning the darkness that lives inside of me. A blue-black aura swirls around me as I stalk toward Miranda. I give her credit for not cowering when she obviously should.

The brunette throws a punch aimed at my jaw and I grab it in a tight fist. She throws her other clenched hand at my abdomen and I swiftly grip that one. I steadily move her toward the wall, not stopping until her back is firmly against the wood. Miranda squirms under my steel grip but is unable to escape. I lean forward until our noses are just a hair's width apart.

"I am not your personal target, Miranda Lawson. If you wanted to get me naked, there are much more creative and harmless ways of doing so. Like asking."

Being this close to the assassin, feeling her soft skin in my hands, sends shivers through my body, which piss me off. A very large part of my mind screams for more contact, such as her lips, but I resist the urge. Instead, I pull away, satisfied that Miranda's breathing quickened to an intense pace.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to change into something more inconspicuous." With that, I let go and walk over to the large bag I'd dropped on the floor near the bed. I manage to remove the knives that are lodged I my back. I rummage through it for a dark brown top and matching, thick pants. The top has a deep hood that I can pull over my head and hide my features, which will undoubtedly be needed. I tug my leather boots back on, tucking the pant legs inside them and buckling the straps. I leave off the black armor but wrap the thick leather bands around my waist.

During my swift wardrobe change, Miranda had resumed cooking. The clatter of kitchen utensils rings out from behind me. I ignore this and walk to the window, opening the curtain to reveal that the sun is just topping the horizon. The clouds around it range from red to pink to purple and blue. The view is only barely visible behind the soaring towers of the city.

"The plan for today is to meet Lanteia, one of the few people I trust to know the whereabouts of my sister. I'll give you more details once we reach her." Miranda says all of this while I'm gazing out the window at the surrounding landscape.

"Sounds really exciting," I comment dryly. "When do we leave?"

"When you're finished eating," Miranda replies.

"I'm not like you mortals. I don't need to eat every day. I can go weeks without a meal and be fine."

"Perhaps, but I get the feeling that we'll both be needing our strength today."

"You trust that feeling a lot?"

"Yes. It's gotten me out of many bad spots before."

"Fine, I'll play by your rules for now."

I stride into the kitchen and take one of the bowls filled with cubed potatoes and small bits of meat. I pick up a wooden fork and begin eating, appreciating that it tastes quite similar to my own homemade breakfast meals.

There are some who could say that Miranda Lawson has the Pirate Queen of Varris on a leash. From how it seems to me at the moment, they wouldn't be wrong. I'm having to listen to and obey every single one of Miranda's orders. If there's one thing I simply cannot stand, it's when people have control over me. The only entity I willingly allow control over any part of me is Thane Krios. And now, it seems, Miranda has subjugated me to do her bidding. It really pisses me off yet there's times where I can't help but feel minor relief at not having to control every part of my life.

I should let other people take charge more often. Well, not just other people. Mainly Miranda.

"This is it," Miranda says, disrupting my thoughts. "Eternity."

"They must be copying some of the bars in Varris," I sneer. "After all, it is the perfect city."

"Oh, fucking hell. Would you shut up?" Miranda snaps.

"How about you bring those soft lips of yours over here and make me?" An offer I'd gladly take myself up on.

The assassin just shakes her head and opens up the door into the small bar that looks like every other building on this street. Its location is completely across the city from where our lodge is, so we really did set out right after I finished eating. I had to borrow a pair of knives from Miranda and kept them carefully out of sight. Apparently, it isn't legal to sport weapons in plain view in Illium. Utter bullshit, as far as I'm concerned.

Inside is a very raucous and wild environment, something I'm very used to. Immediately I feel in my own element. I'm half tempted to stride up to the bartender, who's a busty young woman that seems to have numerous men pining after her, and order myself a drink. I don't, only because Miranda is tugging me by the arm to a dark corner in the bar. At a small booth with worn upholstery sits a woman clothed in a pale green dress with a thin brown vest. She has short blonde hair and pixie-like features.

"Lanteia?" Miranda asks quietly.

The woman at the booth glances up at us and seems to recognize Miranda immediately.

"Mrs. Lawson?" Lanteia responded.

"Not married anymore, but yes, it's me."

"Anymore, you say?" I inquire, slightly amused. I won't deny that I feel a minute pang of jealousy but I give it no heed. "I don't remember you telling me that, _dear._"

Miranda only glares at me, practically saying that this isn't the time.

"Who is this, Miranda?" Lanteia asks.

"She's offered to help me with the matter we need to discuss. And don't worry about whether she's trustworthy. But you don't need to know her name—"

"Name's Aria T'Loak," I tell the blonde. I push my hood back so she can see my undoubtedly recognizable features.

"How on earth did you get her to help you?" Lanteia asks, clearly confused.

"Never mind that," Miranda quickly says, sitting across from the blonde. I pull up an empty chair and sit down, crossing my ankle over my knee and leaning back. "What news do you have?"

"Yes, of course. The transfer will happen the day after tomorrow at midnight in Illium's storage area, which is near the marketplace. It's a big warehouse, made completely of stone and about three stories tall. You can't miss it. Also, you might be pleased to know that your old friend Niket will be there aiding you."

"That's good," Miranda says, relief obvious on her face.

"Does someone mind telling me who Niket is?" I ask, feeling annoyed at being left out. Another thing I can't stand is when I don't know everything about what I'm dealing with.

Miranda decides to humor me. "He's what Lanteia said, an old childhood friend."

"Hope we can trust him, then."

"We can. He'd never double cross me."

She better hope she's right. I mean, who can trust a person named Niket? It sounds like a woman's name.

"Is that all?" Miranda asks.

Lanteia nods and Miranda and I leave the bar, but not before I pull my hood back over my head.

When we step out of the bar, my eyes are assaulted by the harsh sunlight that streams from directly overhead. I squint, trying to see through the light.

"The marketplace isn't that far from here, maybe a few blocks. I suggest we scope things out before the transfer tonight." Miranda has pulled her own hood over her head.

"What is this transfer you keep talking about?" I ask. "I know that it has to do with your sister Ornina—"

"Oriana," Miranda corrects me. She starts wading her way through the mass of bodies that occupies this street. I follow like the obedient dog I seem to be.

"Okay. What is this all about?"

"In order to keep Oriana safe, she has to be moved every so often. If she doesn't leave town after a certain time, our father will find out she's here and try to kidnap her and use her. She doesn't deserve that."

"Sounds fun. Now let's get to work."

We walk down a few more streets, which steadily get denser as we near the marketplace. When we enter the square, it's a lot larger than I anticipate. All around us are different sized buildings, such as the gothic skyscrapers I saw when we first came into town, and short structures that have vendors selling their goods underneath the awnings. Wooden stalls litter the center of the bazaar, peddling all sorts of goods, such as rugs, fruits, vegetables, meat, and clothing of every style and color. The clothing seems to match the people; rarely did I see two people who had the same skin tone or shape of eyes. Some towered over other people while others where as thick as boulders. I'm not sure if I heard a single recognizable dialect. There is no way that Miranda and I will be out of place or recognized here.

Miranda seizes my wrist and tugs me along to the far side of the wide space. I simply roll my eyes and follow along.

We slowly make our way to the other side of the market, which is about as wide as the main plaza back in Varris. I try not to bump into anyone but that plan fails terribly. Every step I take is another shoulder I run into. I don't bother apologizing because that simply isn't who I am. That and no one else bothers to.

When we reach the far side of the square, Miranda says, "Illium is the largest trading hub in this country. It receives people even from other countries like Terminus and Rannoch. This is probably the wealthiest city, aside from the Citadel."

"Wow, because I didn't know any of that at all," I say.

"I'm not even going to bother asking why you feel the need to make a comment on everything I say. Odds are it's something rude."

I clutch my heart in imaginary pain. "Oh, Miri, how you wound me! Whatever have I done to deserve such harsh treatment from such a beauty?" I use an accent I often hear in the plays performed in Varris.

Miranda continues walking in silence. Once we arrive at a deserted alleyway, she shoves me against a stone wall, whips a knife from the inside of her armor and rams it into my chest.

"Do not call me that again," she threatens, her voice low and dangerous. "You are only here to help me with my sister, nothing else. We are not friends. We are nothing more than convenient acquaintances."

"Oh, is that so?" I grab her arm and wrench it to the side. "Well, listen here, _Miri_. I have not been the one to initiate any of our intense kisses. That was all you. I know you have me along for more than just 'saving your sister', _Mrs. Lawson_. You're hoping to use me like all of those other people you've had as your sex toys." I can see that my last comment hits home because Miranda flinches just the tiniest fraction. I quickly reverse our positions, pulling the knife out of my chest and holding it to her throat as I do so. I press the sharp blade tight enough that it cuts the skin, letting little crimson droplets seep out of the wound. "Admittedly, I do enjoy fucking women. It's quite pleasurable, if you'll excuse my pun. But if you keep up with this high and mighty act, you won't get to experience that. Ever. Now, shall we continue this job before I change my mind and leave your sorry ass here to do it yourself?" I release my hold on her and pocket the knife.

Miranda rubs her throat and says nothing. Her expression is blank, but carefully so it seems. I walk away from her and down the stone walled alley. At the end, I'm greeted with a large, boarded up building. It's obviously abandoned and has been for some time. This must be the warehouse that Lanteia talked about. From what I can see now, there are numerous men and women standing near the entrance, all dressed in pale yellow armor. There are probably a dozen of them. One of the men looks over to where I stand and I rapidly duck behind a stack of crates. I pull the silken brown hood lower over my head as I peak around the wooden siding. I examine the soldiers' armor more closely, paying closer attention to the symbol on their chestplates.

"Fucking hell," I mutter.

"What?" Miranda suddenly asks from behind me. I use my forearm to push her against the wall behind me, out of view from the soldiers guarding the warehouse. She grunts from the impact.

"Keep your voice down," I whisper harshly. "There's Eclipse mercenaries guarding the warehouse. That means that this plan of yours just got that much more difficult. It also means that we need to prepare ourselves better if we want to get your sister out of this alive. We need to head back to Nos Astra and plan how we're going to make sure your sister goes to her new location safely."

"Why can't you just use your status to get past them?" Miranda asks quietly.

I rub my eyes. I really should have thought of that. "That may be true but there's no way to guarantee that they'll obey my commands. We still should come prepared."

"Makes sense. Let's head back then."

Roughly an hour later, we arrive back in our room at Nos Astra. I shut the thick wooden door and immediately head to my bag that holds my armor and weapons. I take the bulky leather and ebony plates and set them on the table that sits in front of the couch. I remove my swords and pistols from the bag and place them near the armor. I take off the leather strips around my waist and toss them on the newly formed pile of armor and weapons.

"So, what happens if using my status doesn't work?" I ask Miranda.

"Then we work to get Oriana moved ourselves. If that means taking her to the stables near the southern edge of town and escort her to a faraway city, then that's what we need to do."

I glance over at the brunette. "And if that doesn't work?"

Miranda's brows knit together in an expression of determination. "It'll work."

We spend the next half hour or so planning how to get Oriana out of the warehouse safely if revealing my identity doesn't work. The first step would be to quietly and quickly remove all of the mercs posted outside of the warehouse. Once that's taken care of, Miranda will enter the building through the roof. I was a little skeptical about her abilities to scale the building but she assured me, repeatedly, that she could do it. I'm supposed to enter through the main door as discreetly as possible and eliminate any guards near the entrance. From there, we're to oversee the exchange. Throughout the entire process, I get the sinking feeling that our original plan won't work. Something about this entire exchange feels off.

Eventually, the moon climbs in the sky and reaches its midpoint. After Miranda eats her late dinner, she goes to sleep on the bed, which gives me a mild shock. Since I have yet to feel tired, I pull a chair from the table near the kitchen and sit near the open window, looking out into the city. Most every light in the buildings surrounding ours is out. The only life on the streets now is the occasional stray animal and the lamps that light the pathways. I remember sitting like this only a couple of months ago, with one more companion. And a very different one at that. If there was one thing I could have right now, it would be Thane's companionship. The only being that I trust with my innermost thoughts because he already knows them. I cast my thoughts out to him, in hopes that he can appear to me now. I wait a few moments, hoping that he'd be able to show up. When nothing happens, I shake my head and turn my thoughts elsewhere.

"You requested me?" a familiar, deep voice says.

I whip my head around and see Thane Krios resting on his haunches near the edge of the bed. His massive head almost touches the low ceiling. Thane's onyx and crystal fur glistens in the moonlight, like it did all those nights ago. His emerald eyes bore into my own with a knowing look.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" I say quietly. "Well, stones in your case."

Thane smiled in his wolfish way, the corners of his mouth lifting to reveal his razor sharp canines. "Apologies for taking so long. This is quite the distance for me to travel, even by moving at the speed of thought. Now, what do you need me for?"

"To be honest, I think you should come to Illium and help Miranda and me."

"That will be a first for me." He lowers his head in thought. "I might be able to get here in a few hours—"

The woman sleeping on the bed stirs and groans.

"Who in the hell are you talking to, Aria?" Miranda grumbles. She sits up in bed and rubs her eyes. When she sees the crystalline form of Thane, her jaw drops. "Why is there a stone wolf in here?"

Thane looks at me, amusement in his green eyes. "She certainly seems difficult to get along with."

Miranda quickly tugs the bed's sheets around her nearly naked form and stares at the giant wolf in shock.

"She also seems to be very unused to new experiences," Thane comments.

"You have no idea."

"Can someone please tell me what is going on?" Miranda nearly exclaimed.

I turn to the wolf that's sitting at the foot of the bed. "Thane, it's probably best if you go ahead and return to Varris so you can bring your full body here, not just an apparition." He disappears in a small flash of green and white. Turning to Miranda, I see that she still looks somewhat frightened. I move my chair to set it near her side of the bed. "Do you remember that wolf fountain in Varris?" Miranda nods. "Well, it just so happens that it's alive and connected to my thoughts and body. So, anywhere that I'm at, if I reach out hard enough with my mind, Thane will inevitably come. Well, his smaller form at least. And right now, he should be here in a few hours."

"He's going to travel hundreds of leagues in a few hours? That isn't possible."

"Oh, shut it. Yes it is, especially for him. That wolf can do just about anything."

Miranda rubs her eyes then runs her slender fingers through her silky hair. Again, I feel the urge to do that for her. Then pull it to see if she moans. She probably would. I quickly grit my teeth, trying to resist the urge to claim her as my own. Especially after I learned that she was married once. I'll worry about that in the future, because I will have my way.

"I'll explain the story behind us more when Thane gets here. Just go back to sleep." I move my chair back to its original position by the window and resume my earlier spot.

"Are you…being nice, Aria?" Miranda asks hesitantly.

"No, I'm not," I say, my voice emotionless. "Go to sleep."

I can feel her gaze on my back, a tingling sensation running over my skin. I know she's dying to wonder why I am, in fact, being a bit kinder. You could say that Thane appearing put me in a more tolerable mood.

I turn around to face her, arching an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to occupy our time by having sex. Because I'm open for that option."

"I thought you'd said that we wouldn't ever open up that door." Miranda looks at me with an irritated expression.

"I changed my mind," I say, dropping my voice an octave.

Miranda visibly swallows but does nothing else.

I shrug and turn back to the window. The moon has passed the apex of its path and is now setting. It's quite a large moon, taking up at least a fifth of the sky. I watch the city street below the window, which is empty except for a man now stumbling his way down. It amuses me how people drink so much that they become incoherent and not able to function properly. This man has clearly had much more than he can handle. And now he is falling down, his hands scraping the cobblestones of the ground.

I hear rustling of sheets behind me and then the wooden floor creaking. A hand slowly runs through my thick, choppy hair and I feel a minor wave of heat course through my torso.

"What are you doing, Miranda?" I mutter as I reach back to grab her hand.

There's a bit of hesitation before she answers, "Whatever you want. We have time to kill."

"That may be true but you need to sleep, whereas I don't. Your sister can't afford you to be groggy and exhausted when we go to transfer her." Yet there's still that part, that really large part, of me that would love nothing more than to entertain Miranda's thoughts right now. "And what's come over you, more importantly? Why do you just now want to get me into bed?" When no answer is forthcoming, I lean forward in my chair and out of the woman's reach. "Just go back to bed, Miss Lawson. You aren't in your right mind at the moment. You'll feel normal in the morning."

Reluctantly, it seems, Miranda walks back to the bed, the floor boards creaking under her weight. When I hear her pull the covers back over her, I slowly let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Crossing my legs and folding my arms across my chest, I stay like that for the rest of the night.

**AN: I know, terrible place to end; I'm sorry. I'm trying to get to the good stuff as quickly as I can but still trying to pay attention to other details.**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Mass Effect franchise and likely never will.**

_Miranda's POV_

"Get up, Miranda," a loud, female voice said.

The brunette groaned. Her head was throbbing like hell and each of her limbs felt weighed down, almost like solid lead bars took the place of her bones. She struggled to open her eyes because it seemed like they were glued shut. She barely managed to peel them open and saw a hellishly angelic face above her. Fucking Aria T'Loak. Miranda still didn't understand why she had chosen to ask Miranda for help in the first place. Yet she knew that she couldn't help Oriana without the Pirate Queen's help.

"I swear to god," Aria practically growled. "If you do not get your finely shaped ass out of that bed, I will drag you out."

Miranda balled the quilt on top of her weary body and threw the heavy fabric at the offending woman. Aria snatched the ball out of the air and tossed it aside.

"You should work on not being so rude, Miranda. It's unbecoming."

"Maybe if you wouldn't act like I belong to you, we wouldn't have a problem." The assassin's voice was rough, more so than usual.

"Why are you so exhausted anyway? You'd think that we'd stayed up all night doing naughty things."

Miranda felt an unusual wave of panic shoot through her veins. "We didn't, did we?"

Aria walked over to the kitchen and leaned on the counter. "I'm surprised your brain isn't functioning correctly. What did you do, have a drink that some stranger gave you?"

Miranda thought for a moment. She remembered all of yesterday up until after they left Eternity. She also remembered having a sip of a clear liquid that she had gotten from the bar. After that things grew fuzzy. She pressed a hand against her forehead, trying to make the headache go away, but to no avail.

"Ah, yes," Aria said, snapping her fingers. "You did have something. That drink at that bar. You shouldn't trust those people, you know. Trusting me would be your safest bet when it comes to things like that." She gave a knowing smirk. "But I suppose it's best if you don't remember last night. You were certainly acting out of character."

"Just tell me what I did," Miranda muttered.

"You tried to have sex with me," Aria said bluntly.

"Oh, fuck me," Miranda said miserably, burying her face in her hands.

"I'd love to, but we need to be somewhere so get dressed." Aria herself was dressed exactly as she was yesterday, same dark brown clothing and leather boots.

"Are you not going to change?" Miranda asked. "You wore that yesterday."

"You certainly have a way with wanting to get someone naked. But you can't get me topless that quickly. You'll need to work on your charm before that happens."

The assassin ignored her and got up, looking for her bag of supplies. It was resting near Aria's own. She untied the top and dug her hand inside, searching for her town clothing. She pulled out a white shirt with black, long sleeves and black, form fitting pants.

"Do you mind turning away while I change?" Miranda inquired.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it when we were in all of those taverns. Just hurry up and get dressed. I'm not going to look."

Miranda sighed and practically tore her night shirt and shorts off. She suddenly felt her back growing hot and glanced behind her to see Aria openly staring at her with unbridled lust in her blue opal eyes. Aria did nothing but give a sly wink to her. Miranda felt her entire face flush as she whipped back around and hurriedly dressed.

When she finished dressing, she quietly cleared her throat before saying, "You really should consider being more considerate of others and their privacy."

"I don't see why I should when we're both attractive women, in the same room, and you're clearly willing after your little display last night. But no matter. We have to be somewhere in a few minutes, so make sure you grab your weapons. Try not to use them on me this time." Aria tossed her a look of irritation, but it was lessened by some other emotion that Miranda could not identify for the life of her. She assumed she imagined it.

Miranda retrieved three leather belts that held her knives and crisscrossed two of them on her chest and the third one strapped around her ample hips. The blades were still firmly situated in their sheaths.

"Where are we going?" Miranda asked aloud.

"A little ways out of town, probably a mile or two," Aria replied, still gazing intently at Miranda.

The Cerberus officer furrowed her brows. "Could you stop staring at me like that?"

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Aria asked coolly.

"No," Miranda lied. "I would just appreciate it if you didn't stare at me like I'm a piece of meat."

"Okay," Aria replied. Her gaze immediately changed to something Miranda would never thought the lethal ruler was capable of. Warmth and compassion. "Is this better?"

Miranda gave an exasperated sigh and shook her head. "Can we just go?"

"After I suit up." With that, the sovereign of Varris walked over to her own bag, which was right next to Miranda. Aria didn't even bother to mind the miniscule distance between the two; she simply sifted through the large, cloth sack for her ebony armor and leather undercoating. She leisurely slipped into the toughened pants and overshirt, all the while not paying Miranda one bit of attention. Aria then slid on the metal plates, tightening the straps on the greaves, vambraces, pauldrons, and chestplate. She placed the leather straps around her waist and chest and slid her weapons in their respective holsters.

"Now we can go," Aria said, after letting her gear settle properly on her shoulders.

When the pair headed out of the city, avoiding the authorities the entire way, they traveled for what seemed like the better part of an hour before Aria finally stopped. The place she stopped at was surrounded by towering tropical trees and lush grass. Vines and unique fruits hung from various branches on the trees. Every now and then, Miranda would spot what looked like a strange mixture of a lizard and a monkey. Once, Miranda swore she saw a black panther prowling around on one of the thicker branches.

Aria sat on the trunk of a fallen tree, resting her arms on her knees. Miranda simply stood, crossing her arms over her chest.

"So why are we here? Miranda asked.

"We're meeting an old friend of mine," Aria replied simply, not even looking at Miranda. Suddenly, what seemed like an earthquake shook the ground and the sound of trees being plowed down rang through the dense forest. "And here he is." Aria stood up, a grin gracing her features.

An enormous, glittering creature walking on four legs shouldered its way through the thick tree branches and leaves. The sunlight was refracted off of what looked like diamond and onyx…was that fur? Glowing, emerald eyes shone through the dimness of the forest. Miranda was now able to make out the shape of this colossal creature. It was a wolf. A giant, forty-foot tall wolf made from stones rarer than a sighting of a thresher maw. It was vaguely familiar, so much that Miranda could almost put her finger on it. It looked at the Cerberus operative with a strong sense of knowing, which caused goose bumps to erupt on her skin.

"What took you so long, Thane?" Aria announced, rising from her place on the fallen trunk.

"I stopped for a snack," the wolf's ethereal voice rumbled.

"You are such a liar," Aria said, shaking her head. "You don't eat. Ever."

"I took a scenic detour." The colossal wolf, Thane, leaned back and rested on his haunches.

"That's more believable," Aria told him.

Miranda finally cleared her throat, annoyed at clearly being left out. Aria glanced at her then looked back at the crystalline predator.

"You remember Miranda Lawson, yes?" Aria asked him.

Thane once again turned his weighty gaze to Miranda. "Indeed. The one you are in—"

"Yes, yes, that one," Aria interrupted, anger momentarily roughening her voice.

Thane laid down completely, crossing his front paws in a show of comfort and ease. "You have not yet told her? Do you remember what happened the last time, all those years ago?"

"Do you really think that I'd have forgotten, Thane?" Aria snapped. "I may be old. That doesn't mean that my memories deteriorate. You should know that better than anyone, you old dog."

The canine glared at the Pirate Queen, using the full force of his ancient wisdom and rage in his bright green eyes. However, Aria knew that he was not truly angry at her, nor would he harm her. "If you were another person, you would cease to exist after that comment and tone of your voice."

"Yes, well, I'm me. And that isn't changing."

"Okay, look," Miranda practically shouted. "If you two are comfortable enough to stay here and chat, I'm going to leave now because I have to help my sister." With that, she practically stormed out of the dense jungle. The Cerberus operative walked out the way she and Aria had originally entered, not caring if the sovereign and her wolf friend followed. Her gait was a quiet one, the soft soles of her leather boots diffusing any sound as she stepped on the leaves and fallen twigs the decorated the soil.

"Miranda!" Aria's voice rang out after a few minutes.

The Cerberus assassin ignored her and continued walking, despite the protests a small part of her mind was making.

"Miranda Lawson!" Aria bellowed again.

Miranda continued to ignore her. She was almost out of the forest now.

"Miranda Eve Lawson!"

The woman stopped cold in her tracks. She had never told anyone her middle name, least of all the Pirate Queen. The only person besides her father that knew it was The Illusive Man. Though it didn't surprise Miranda as much as it might have someone else. After all, there was no telling just how long Aria had been alive. Miranda knew that she had ruled Varris for at least three hundred years. That was all the information The Illusive Man would give her, aside from the fact that the monarch was extremely dangerous and difficult to kill.

Miranda suddenly felt a warm hand on her shoulder and she whipped around, preparing to throw her most menacing glare at Aria. The smirk on Aria's face only made Miranda's face harden in anger and irritation. Aria, however, was not taken aback like most people would be.

"Do not use my middle name again, Aria," Miranda stormed. "Ever."

"I do what I want, Miranda," Aria replied, her own indignation rising. "Do you want us to help you or not?"

By this time, Thane had shouldered his way through the remaining trees and foliage separating him from the two women. Miranda gave him a once over and frowned, her eyebrows drawing together and the corners of her lips turning down.

"How do you expect him to walk around Illium without being noticed and causing a stir?" Miranda inquired. "He isn't exactly ordinary something you see every day. He'll cause a stir; it could put Oriana in danger. You saw those people outside the warehouse. They probably already know what's going on. Who knows how they were tipped off—"

"Please tell me you don't talk this much in bed," Aria interrupted. "Look, Oriana is going to be fine because Thane won't go around town being noticed. He knows how to hide." The brunette turned to the wolf. "Show Miranda why we won't be harassed."

Thane's body began to shimmer and ripple, as though he was made of liquid. He shrank in size until he was as small as a direwolf. His fur melted into a deep black that had a slight green tint to it. Gray and white fur interrupted the sleek, black coat. His claws of diamond turned into traditional, organic talons. His eyes transformed from hard stones to moist, spring green eyes with large pupils. It shocked Miranda how quickly he morphed from a four-story tall, crystalline creature into a somewhat ordinary wolf.

"You may quit gawking at me, Miss Lawson," Thane told her. His voice had acquired a bit of roughness, as though he needed to clear his throat. It was a strange tone, if Miranda was honest with herself. Strange and quite foreign.

"If she should be staring at anyone," Aria spoke up with a smirk on her face. "It should be me. After all, she did try to have sex with me last night. Almost succeeded, too."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Miranda asked incredulously. "I did not."

Aria's smirk only widened. "Let's let you think that."

**AN:** I apologize for leaving it off there and in such a short chapter, but I've been really damn busy lately. Just ask my coworkers and the misogynistic pig that was harassing me. Anyway, I'm working on the next chapter so don't fret!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that Bioware or EA Games have constructed, only these ideas that form in my mind. **

If the assassin was honest with herself, and she usually was, she was shocked at how well the horizontal wolf striding next to the vertical one beside her was fitting in. Thane didn't look out of place one bit, something that stunned Miranda. She had assumed that the green sheen to his fur would make him stand out some, but that didn't happen at all. If anything, it made him blend with all of the flora that tastefully decorated Illium.

Aria had decided to remain in her bulky armor because when the party had arrived back in the city, it was nearly dusk. Just a handful of hours until the exchange took place. Walking down the lamp-lit streets, Miranda cast a glance at the Pirate Queen walking on her right. The monarch had the infuriating habit of capturing her attention and holding on with a vice grip. Miranda knew that the queen was old, ancient even, and she wore her age very well. The Cerberus operative couldn't spot a single wrinkle on the smooth, tan skin. The only things maiming the skin were two raised lines that started a few centimeters into the woman's forehead and disappeared into her thick hair. Miranda had wondered, when she had originally seen the marks, where she had gotten them. They looked eerily liked scars. The young woman knew better than to ask, though. Likely, Aria would evade the question and provide some distraction. The monarch was notorious for that.

"Miri," the Pirate Queen spoke up. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop ogling at me?"

"And how many times do am I required to ask you to stop calling me that?" Miranda retorted.

"You know I do whatever I want, so why protest?"

"The same could be said for me," Miranda replied.

The group had stopped walking, due in no small part to Aria. The older woman looked directly at Miranda and said, "There's a great deal that could be said for you."

Miranda heard the insinuation that the low voice poured out and furiously attempted not to blush.

Aria wasted no time commenting. "If your face was any redder, you would match the tapestry of my club."

"Why don't you ever shut up?" Miranda asked, exasperated.

"Because, dear, I'm only quiet in bed." Aria turned away from the young woman and continued walking in the general direction of the warehouse where the exchange was to take place.

Miranda tried not to let the woman's actions irritate her. Tried and failed. Miranda decided to just ignore the comment and continue walking down the crowded streets of Illium.

"What will be my duty when we arrive at the warehouse?" Thane asked Aria.

"Kill anyone who poses a threat to us," the woman replied. "If things start getting hairy, then you can change into whatever form you prefer for combat."

The group arrived in the busy market bazaar and began the arduous task of worming their ways through the throng of people. Despite being just past nightfall, the open market was still rather busy. The oil lamps were had been filled to the brim by the city workers so they wouldn't wink out during the night. Everything looked the same as when Aria and Miranda had originally entered the bustling metropolis.

It took the trio roughly fifteen minutes to make their ways across the vast plaza, but they eventually made it. Miranda quickly led the way to the warehouse, pulling out three knives from hidden spots inside her armor. She'd had to relocate all twelve of her blades so the city guard wouldn't see them. Aria, being the proud and generally indifferent woman that she was, had proudly displayed her swords and pistols, not seeming to care if a guard harassed her about the weapons.

After turning the last corner, the warehouse where the exchange would take place came into view, looming over the buildings that were adjacent to it. Miranda could now see lights inside the seemingly abandoned building.

"Okay," Miranda muttered to her two companions. Such strange company she found herself with. "Let's test out the original plan. Then, if or when that fails, we go in and take out the opposition."

"It damn well better work," Aria said coldly. "If not, I'll have their heads on plaques."

"That sounds a bit extreme," Thane spoke quietly. "Even for you, Aria."

"Yes, well, they disobeyed their commander. Me. Odds are, they're looking to overthrow me as the ruler of Varris. Mercs are notorious for things of that nature."

"You sound paranoid," Miranda commented.

"Not paranoid, just well-informed." With that, she pulled down the silk hood and strode forward to meet her rebellious soldiers. Miranda couldn't help but to be absolutely mesmerized by the way the monarch carried herself. The woman walked predatorily, yet gracefully, with her shoulders back and her chin held high. Suddenly, Miranda remembered something she had seen earlier and decided to ask Thane about it.

"How did Aria get those scars on her forehead?" Miranda inquired quietly.

"That is a long and painful story, and not mine to tell," the wolf replied politely yet firmly. "I am sure that if you ask her politely enough, she will inform you. I will leave you with this, though. She acquired them very early in her life."

By now, the woman in question had arrived in front of the two mercenaries guarding the wooden door. The man and woman had indignant expressions on their faces; they seemed intent on defying whatever Aria had to say to them. Miranda spotted the telltale signs that the brunette was becoming angry; her gloved hands were clenching and a deep blue aura began to surround her forearms and fists. Miranda saw the exact moment the queen snapped. Her demeanor became deceptively calm, like that of a tiger before it viciously attacks its prey.

And attack she did.

Aria snatched out a power-infused hand and grabbed the throat and chin of the male Eclipse soldier. She swiftly jerked it to the side, effectively snapping his neck. The woman then tossed the corpse to her left, the body landing five meters away and kicking up some dust from the street. Aria quickly turned her attention to the female mercenary and brought a swirling blue fist to the blonde's nose. Aria's hand smashed through the soldier's face and her head, as if the bones and muscle were no more than a thin sheet of paper. The shorter woman collapsed onto the stones, dead and crimson blood still spurting from the gaping hole in her skull. Aria knelt down and wiped her blood-soaked glove and bracer on part of the cloth of the body's outfit. She crouched and flicked her gaze to her left to see another Eclipse merc creeping toward her with his sword drawn. Aria stalked in his direction, not even caring when the bulky man thrust his blade through a chink in the queen's armor. The man's face lit up with a malicious grin when he saw that he'd pierced his this offender's armor. Miranda heard Thane utter a low growl, likely from pain. She knew that the queen and the wolf were connected, feeling each and every wound that was inflicted on the other person. Miranda watched, strangely captivated, as Aria literally tore into her opponent. Though, if Miranda was being honest, she didn't really feel like this mercenary was much of an opponent when Aria could throw Miranda around as if she weighed no more than a few kilograms. The pulsing energy surrounding the monarch's body flared even brighter, spewing its light on the user's environment. Aria pushed her hands inside the man's armored chest, tearing through the metal as though it didn't exist, and yanked outward. The cavernous and jagged space created from Aria's unbridled power immediately spilled the soldier's insides and bright blood onto both the woman's black armor and the street below. The flow quickly pooled around the body as it landed face down on the pavement. Aria then turned to face Miranda and Thane. Red fluid coated her hard features and her armor. Even from this distance, Miranda could see how the older woman's eyes glowed in the darkness.

"Get over here," Aria announced, her voice echoing off the stone and wood walls. "It's time we get this over with."

The assassin and wolf walked silently down the alley and joined Aria.

"Please be a bit quieter," Miranda whispered harshly.

"Please be a bit nicer and we have a deal," Aria replied, not caring to lower her voice. She opened the thin, wooden door and stormed inside, not caring if Miranda or Thane followed.

_Aria's POV_

Numerous thoughts flow through my head, the priority being to take care of the job at hand. The lesser ones include the pair I just left outside of the warehouse I walk into. Then, seemingly unacknowledged, the bodies I left in various states of disrepair. I'm surprised that the Eclipse mercs had the balls to stand up to me like they did, however pitiful their resistance was.

The interior of the warehouse was not as I had imagined at all. There are large, metal silos with wooden stairs leading up to the tops. There are easily fifteen rows of twelve, all spaced out evenly over the length of the building. Wooden cargo containers dot the floor, very few of the same size. Oil lamps hang overhead, illuminating the alcohol refinery and casting a hazy light over everything.

The door closes behind me again and I immediately felt two figures behind me. I don't bother turning around; instead, I walk further into the dimly lit building. I hear multiple sets of footsteps on the stone floor ahead of me.

"Halt!" a woman's voice shouts. Another trio of mercenaries arrive before me, their pale armor nearly glowing in the hazy atmosphere. The woman, probably the one who yelled, is flocked by two burly men, one with shoulder-length blonde hair and the other with short black hair and stubble on his face. The woman has cropped black hair that frames her pixie-like features. I notice that she's easily a foot shorter than myself.

"Why are you here?" she asks, as though she has the authority to make such demands.

"I can ask you the same question," I say through gritted teeth.

The woman seems to notice the assassin and wolf behind me, because her face morphs into something more hostile.

"We were told you would be coming for the girl," the blonde man snarled.

"You got that right," Miranda's accented voice rang out.

I pull out one of the two pistols from the leather holsters on my chest and hold it loosely by my side. Apprehension briefly crossed the three mercenaries' faces, but they recovered.

"You really should consider disobeying direct orders," I tell the group, my voice deceptively calm. "After all, you and the rest of Eclipse fall under my rule."

A look of recognition crosses the black-haired woman's face. "With all due respect, Aria T'Loak, you can take your orders and shove them up—"

Having heard quite enough, I dart forward, rapidly closing the distance between us. I steadily reach out my hand, already pulsing with energy, and grab her face. Then, with enough force to launch a cannon ball through a stone wall, I throw the short woman into one of the wooden crates, shattering it into thousands of splinters. The soldier screams the entire way, her shrill cry piercing the air. The atmosphere is then permeated by a thick red mist.

I turn to face the remaining mercs. An evil grin spreads across my lips.

"Now, unless you want to meet the same fate as your captain, I suggest you—"

I'm interrupted, quite rudely I might add, by two meaty fists connecting with each side of my face. My head snaps back a few centimeters as their hands make contact with my skin. I roll my eyes and swiftly shove the gun back in its sheath. I pull back my left hand, already in a fist, and fling it at the blonde, punching through his skull like I did with the one outside. I give the man with the beard equal treatment, that way no one can say I'm not fair.

"Why do you feel the need to be so violent, Aria?" Miranda asks me.

I face her and say, "That's who I am, Miranda Lawson. Violent, seemingly uncontrollable, and just plain cruel. If you weren't able to deal with that, then I wouldn't be here."

The assassin just shook her head and walked past me. As she passed, I caught the scent of vanilla and roses. I watched her form disappear into the gloom. Thane came to stand beside me, his quiet breath washing over my back.

"Cease acting around Miss Lawson, Aria," the wolf uttered. "I know what goes through your mind when your thoughts are wrapped around the woman."

"Then what would you have me do, Thane?" I snap lowly.

"I have told you before. I do not enjoy repeating myself." His emerald eyes bore into mine, his head level with my own. "But I will say it just once more. Be your usual self. If that means taking a sword thrust for her like you would for me, then you do it."

I grunt in affirmation and basically ignore his command. However, somewhere in the back of my mind, I understand why he wants me to do that. Understand and admit that he's right. We then walk forward to find Miranda crouched behind a crate.

"There are over two dozen mercs in that clearing over there," Miranda mutters. And I can see my sister next to one…"

"You realize that there is a mole, don't you?" I tell her. "That's why the mercs are here in the first place."

"There are only two people that know about this," Miranda replies softly. "Lanteia and Niket. But neither of them would betray me like this."

"That isn't the case anymore, it would seem." My tone has lessened in its severity. "It's either Lanteia or Niket that double-crossed you. Whichever one you trust more is the one who stabbed you in the back. So let's figure something out so we can get Oriana out of here unscathed."

"How about Aria provides the distraction while you and I rescue your sister?" Thane suddenly asks.

I look at Miranda; I can practically see the gears turning in her head. "I see nothing wrong with it. We'll just have to make sure Thane and I get a good enough head start that the mercs don't try to use Oriana as bait."

"I won't let that happen," I announce firmly. Miranda manages to catch my gaze and holds it, silently asking a question I don't think I can answer without lying. "Just go. I'll wait two minutes while you two flank the group. No more. Now go."

The pair stalk off silently, rapidly disappearing among the maze of cargo crates and silos. I set a mental timer in my head.

_2:00… 1:59… 1:58… 1:57…_

I carefully watch the group of Eclipse ahead of me, searching for Oriana. I find her deep brunette hair against the pale yellow armor of a woman with deep red hair. She looked vaguely familiar, yet I couldn't put a name to the face. I decided to ignore her and focus on the younger Lawson.

_1:03… 1:02… 1:01… 1:00…_

I see two shapes move in the shadows behind the red-haired woman and Oriana. I see a glint of green and nod my head. I'm surprised by how quickly they got into position. Miranda darts out from the shadows and swiftly incapacitates the guard. Oriana looks at the shadow behind her and nods, then follows her sister into the darkness.

_0:03… 0:02… 0:01… 0:00._

Show time.

"You fuckers think that you can defy me, the queen of Varris?" I shout as I step out from behind the crate. I make sure I stand directly under one of the lamps so my entire form is illuminated.

"You do not rule us!" a man's voice shouts back. "We're mercenaries. We don't have laws!"

I stalk forward, closing the large distance between myself and the two dozen soldiers.

"You have laws because I fucking say you do," I announce. "Even if you don't live in Varris, I still control you, as much as that pains me. You guys are fucking idiots."

I'm now directly in front of the large group, my signature scowl on my face. From my peripheral vision, I see various mercs give me a onceover.

"Who's in charge here?" I demand.

"I am," a woman's voice rings out. She steps forward and I get a good look at her. She has innocent features. Pretty, yet not memorable. A face that I could easily forget and not fit on a lowlife mercenary. Flowing, blonde hair falls over her shoulders and her green eyes bore into me. Her armor was significantly thinner than that of her companions, yet it was obvious that she was, in fact, the captain of this small regiment. "Captain Enyala, leader of Eclipse in Illium."

"Good," I say, another wolfish smile widening my lips. "Now I know which one of you bastards I get to kill first."

"You bitch," she snarls. "Get her! And make sure you don't scratch that pretty face of hers."

"Oh, sweet child, you couldn't cut me if you tried," I reply kindly. "You're welcome to try, however."

Something inside the captain seems to crack at my statement. Her green eyes flare with rage and she makes a motion with her hand, sending her underlings after me. I utter a dark laugh and summon up the ancient power that lives in me. I thrust my hands forward, the leather bunching up beneath my armor, and fling a wave of energy at the mass of bodies. They fall down like dominoes but quickly scramble back to their feet.

I crouch into a fighting stance and gesture with my hands. "Bring it on, you worthless pieces of shit. I need to get some pent up frustration out of my system."

_Miranda's POV_

Miranda, accompanied by Thane and her sister Oriana, quietly crept out of the refinery. The commotion that Aria was causing provided ample distraction for the trio to escape. Miranda felt a ping of regret at leaving the Pirate Queen in there to cause so much destruction and ruin all of the brandy, whiskey, and vodka that was in the refinery. The assassin also felt something else, another feeling she couldn't quite put a finger on; therefore she couldn't identify what it stemmed from. The main thing Miranda cared about was that her sister was safe with her. When they had escaped the warehouse and ran down a few different alleys to avoid anyone who could be chasing the trio. The entire time, Thane had grunted and growled in pain. Whenever he would make a noise, Miranda felt her sense of worry, something she reserved only for her sister, increase. She would then push it down and attribute it to worrying about who could've betrayed her and alerted the mercs. The more she thought about what Aria had said earlier, the more it became clear which one would stab her in the back. A sense of overwhelming anger briefly washed over her before she controlled her emotions and prevented them from showing on her face.

Miranda, Oriana, and Thane sat in the damp alleyway for what seemed like the better part of an hour before there was a large explosion. Miranda quickly snapped her gaze back to the alcohol refinery and saw a massive cloud of fire and black smoke rising from the rooftop. The flames illuminated the city, giving it a daytime glow. Shouting immediately broke out and innumerable sets of footsteps could be heard pounding across the cobblestone streets to figure out what went wrong. Thane began growling again, more ferociously this time, and the fur on his body bristled.

"She needs to learn to take better care of herself," came the wolf's guttural voice.

A heavy set of footsteps thudded closer to the trio. Miranda pulled out a knife and readied herself for a fight. Only then did she realize that the footsteps sounded irregular, as though the person was injured greatly. The figure stumbled through the dense fog and smoke that had befallen Illium and nearly collapsed before Miranda darted forward and caught the injured human.

"Eclipse sure does know how to throw a party," a woman's raspy, yet highly familiar, voice whispered.

A strange and unexpected wave of relief crashed over Miranda.

"That really hurts, by the way," Aria T'Loak said. "You can set me down on the street. I don't need to be coddled like a child." The queen's lupine-like, cerulean eyes found Miranda's ice blue ones. "Unless, of course, you enjoy holding me." With that, Aria's burnt and charred face twisted into a knowing grin.

Miranda, currently having none of this woman's incessant taunting, unceremoniously dropped the Pirate Queen onto the ground, kicking up some dust. The older woman's ebony armor clanked on the stones. Aria only laughed, then winced as her body tried to realign itself from the massive explosion. The skin on her face was healing at a remarkable pace; Miranda could only imagine what it looked like immediately following the eruption. It must have been blown to hell. The only thing on Aria's body that wasn't repairing itself was the black and golden armor. There were gaping holes in the metal plating, the leather armor was torn to mere shreds underneath. With all the pieces missing or ripped apart, Aria was nearly naked. A sight Miranda had yet to see, and an increasingly large part of her wanted to see.

Miranda quickly glanced around and found a large, roughspun blanket lying on the ground. It was filthy, but she picked it up and tossed it over Aria's body.

"Wrap that around yourself," Miranda said, her voice coming out lower than she intended. "My sister doesn't want to see that."

"A shame," Aria replied. "I would've thought you two would have more in common." Reluctantly, Aria covered her bare skin with the large cloth.

Miranda turned to face her sister, who was dressed in typical city garb. A deep blue dress with a white vest clothed her body and her dark chestnut hair was neatly combed and fell past her eyes and ears.

The younger Lawson abruptly pushed her hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her right ear, something that seemed to be a habit stemmed from irritation. "Miranda," the girl asked, "Why do you have a direwolf and this woman with you?"

Miranda sighed and rubbed her eyes, stinging from the smoke. "Let's get back to Nos Astra and we can talk about that." The Cerberus operative directs her attention back to the woman lying on the ground. "Do you need help walking or are you fine?"

The woman in question easily rose from her horizontal position and stood. "I'll be fine." She grabbed the cloak from her shoulders and tore it off. "However, I refuse to robe myself in something so foul."

Miranda only rolled her eyes and turned away. "Fine. Let's go."

"I think that this is as far as Thane and I go," Aria spoke up. "We helped you save your sister. We're going back to Varris."

Miranda felt disappointment wash over her, along with sadness. She knew exactly why she felt that but the assassin chose to ignore it.

"All right, I guess this is it," Miranda said. Inner turmoil showed on her pale features, her thin brows drawn together and confliction showing in her glacier eyes. She didn't look at the queen, only off down the flame-lit alleyway. "Next time we see each other, you won't live through the encounter."

"Duly noted," Aria said evenly.

After the Pirate Queen said that, Miranda gestured to Oriana and the woman walked down the street with her sister in tow. She and her sister walked roughly ten meters before Miranda felt a set of hands gripped her waist and whipped her around to face the queen. Not a second passed before Miranda's lips were aggressively connected to the Pirate Queen's surprisingly soft ones. The assassin's hands unconsciously came up to knot themselves in Aria's thick hair. The grip on her waist tightened as she felt the other woman's arms circle around her body. Their lips seem to fit together as a lock and its matching key would. Miranda felt teeth graze her bottom lip and a shiver traveled leisurely down her spine. She barely prevented a moan from escaping her throat before she had to pull herself back to catch her breath. What she saw when Miranda looked at the sapphire eyes, they had morphed into a blue so deep that they looked black.

"Now you can go," Aria muttered, her voice rougher and deeper than usual.

**AN: So, I caught wind recently of a brand new Mass Effect game and I am absolutely pumped about it. As always, your reviews are greatly appreciated yet not required.**


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